


Love will Tear us Apart

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Amnesia, Angst, Beauxbatons, Cute Kids, Divorce, Durmstrang, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangle, Nosey neighbours, Not everyone went to muggle high school Hogwarts, Pregnancy, Seperation, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, prepare yourself for the angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: After hitting her head, Hermione wakes up in hospital thinking it's still 2008. It falls to her best friend Harry, to explain to her that she's forgotten the past decade. As Hermione struggles to fit into her "old" life, she wonders and slowly remembers what exactly happened to the woman she was. It doesn't help that her "husband" barely looks at her, her two kids still expect their favourite dinner and her "boyfriend" won't quit calling.





	1. Prologue - Who I used to be

* * *

 

“You like him” Ginny teased as the two girls sat huddled together in the football stands watching the final game of the season, Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin. 

Hermione tore her eyes away from the game and simply raised an eyebrow at her friend. “I have no idea to whom you are referring Ginny.”

Ginny laughed, “I don't blame you of course. He does look good. Tall, dark, handsome, smart. Oh yes,” she nodded, “you definitely like him.”

Hermione snorted and turned her attention back to the game at hand, deliberately keeping her eyes on Harry for the remainder of the match.

* * *

 

“Hogsmeade Granger?”

Hermione looked up from her english literature homework and blinked at the head boy she shared a living space with.

“What about it?”

“Are you going?”

She shrugged and returned her gaze back to her work, “maybe. Why?”

“I wan- I mean” he corrected, “that I would like to ask you to come.With me,” he added.

Hermione smirked and glanced up to see him shuffling nervously on the spot and tugging at his shirt collar. “Okay.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Hermione gasped, clutching her boyfriends hand tighter in her hand, and whirling round to glare at him, “you brought a house?”

“Well yeah. Don’t you like it?”

Hermione looked up at the massive townhouse and felt her heart rate increase dramatically. “Well yes,” she started, “but why?”

Her boyfriend glanced at her as he began to lead her up the garden path, “because my father gave me the money to do so. And” he continued, pulling away from her to open the front door, “our apartment is more like a frat house. I want to come home after a long day at university to just you Granger.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth opening and closing multiple times as her brain registered what he’d said. “You want me to live here too. With you?”

“Obviously,” he smirked, leaving her and making his way down the hall towards what she presumed was a kitchen.

“Obviously,” she muttered quietly before she followed him.

* * *

 

“You owe me ten quid Potter,” Ginny smirked as Hermione danced with her husband for the first time.

Harry snorted into his drink and elbowed his wife. “You always were so sure they’d end up together.”

“Obviously,” she drawled, examining her nails and winking at Hermione from across the room, “he was always staring at her when she wasn’t staring at him.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, “I suppose,” he frowned, “I just thought they hated each other.”

Ginny laughed, “oh babe,” she sighed, leaning into him and taking another drink of her champagne.

* * *

“Wait until you see your room. Your daddy put so much effort into doing it exactly like mummy told him,” Hermione murmured lowly, cradling her ever increasing baby bump as she rocked on the brand new chair that had arrived just earlier that day.. She smirked when she heard her husband snort from across the room.

“Happy wife, happy life son.”

“Oi!” she admonished, though there was no bite to her tone and she grinned at him as he placed the paint brush down and crossed the room and knelt between her legs, his hands rubbing her bare thighs as he leant forward and brushed his nose against her bump.

“I’m serious son” he murmured, glancing up at Hermione, “if a woman is angry you’re screwed. Always be weary of a quiet female.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Prat.”


	2. Where's my Husband?

**10 years later**

_She’s lying flat on her back and wiggling her toes. They’re painted an assortment of colours. Red, purple, green. Painted is the wrong word. The colours are blotched on, like they were painted on by a child. The sun is warm on her skin and she can hear voices. They must be playing football because she can hear laughing and shouting and cheering all around her, but she can’t lift her head enough to see them._

“Hermione.”

_There’s someone beside her. She can feel their arm pressing against hers. She can’t move her head to see them but her hand flounders about until a tiny hand clasps it in her own and it feels nice. Comforting. Like she’s held hands with this person a million times before._

“Hermione, you have to get up.”

_She doesn’t want to get up. She’s perfectly content lying where she is. On the grass. In the sun. With this child. Who is this child? She still can’t turn her head to look at them. She must be dreaming. She doesn’t have a child. Not yet._

“She hit her head pretty hard.”

“I can’t believe there’s not a sign here. The floor is obviously wet.”

“She’s got a claim on her hand’s I’d say.”

_Why are there so many people talking? Can’t they let her sleep in peace. God, she can’t remember the last time she had a decent night’s sleep. The baby is constantly pressing on her bladder these days and she’s worn a path in the rug from how frequently she has to get up to empty her bladder._

“Hermione please.”

_The voice, it sound familiar. Is that Ginny? It sounds like Ginny. What on earth is Ginny doing in her room? Anyway, Ginny sounds worried. Maybe something’s wrong. Oh God what’s happened?_   
“Ginny?” she mumbles.

“Oh look she’s alive.”

“Oliver.”

“What? She is. Her eyes are fluttering like she’s dreaming or something.”

_Wherever she thought she was is not where she is. The ground beneath her is cold and hard and -_

“Ginny?”

“Hermione, shh it’s ok I’ve called an ambulance it’s ok you’re going to be ok.”

“Where are we?”

“She really hit her head.”

“Excuse me, please, store colleague coming through.”

“Oh God she’s bleeding.”

_What?_

“Ginny.”

“You need to calm down Hermione. It’s ok Everything’s going to be ok.”

_Is it? God she was apparently bleeding out and there’s people crowding her and -_

“Hermione you need to stay awake.”

_I’m just going to close my eyes. It’s fine. I’m fine. Ginny said it was fine._

“Hermione.”

* * *

 

Hermione had spent a lot of her teenage years in the hospital wing of Hogwarts with Harry Potter. Her best friend had a talent for injuring himself during football practise and it wasn’t that peculiar for her to see his face when she first woke up.

It was perhaps, the first time she’d ever woke up in the bed, to see him in the visitor’s seat though.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, smiling at her, “You gave Ginny a right scare.”

Hermione nodded and Harry automatically passed her a glass of water from the table beside her. Hermione smirked and eagerly took a sip of the tepid water.

“Thanks,” she croaked, shuffling up in the bed and pulling her knees to her chest, “what-” she broke off. She could feel the blood draining from her face as she looked down at her stomach. Her very _flat_ stomach.

“Harry,” she started, her voice shaking, “Harry where’s my baby?”

“Baby?” he asked startled, “You’re pregnant?”

Hermione stared in shock at him. Him and Ginny had been to her house only a few days ago to celebrate her maternity leave. He knew she was pregnant.

“Harry?”

“Hermione?”

They stared at each other and if Hermione hadn’t been looking so intently at him she’d have missed the spark of something in his eye. “Hermione what day is it?”

“Monday. Harry what’s-”

“Just,” he said, holding a hand up to stop her flurry of questions, “Who’s the Prime Minister?”

“Gordon Brown.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty three.”

“Jesus,” he murmured, slumping back in his seat and removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “Hermione” he said looking up at her, “Christ, I,” he swallowed.

“Harry where’s my baby?”

“He’s at school,” he answered. Hermione flinched. _No_ she thought _that can’t be right. She was pregnant. She was pregnant just yesterday._

“What?”

“Hermione,” he started, getting up from the chair and coming to sit on the bed beside her, taking her shaking hand in his own, “‘mione, I think you need to speak to the doctor. I think you might have lost your memory.”

Hermione shoved him and made to get out of the bed. She swooned when her feet touched the ground and was momentarily grateful for Harry’s presence when he caught her elbow and guided her back down to the bed. Then she remembered what he’d said and shrugged him off.

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry. I’m fine. Ginny said I was fine.”

“Well considering you just turned thirty three last week I’d say you’re not _fine_ Hermione.”

She flinched again, at his tone this time and felt tears gather in her eyes. She was vaguely aware of Harry shifting beside her and pulling her into his arms.

“Shit, Hermione. I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I just,” he paused and took a breath. Hermione could feel his breath against her forehead and relished it. Harry was familiar, comfortable, the brother she’d never had. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked quietly, pulling back to look at her and wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and thought about his question.

_What do I remember. I remember the baby. I was pregnant. We’d just finished decorating the nursery. I’d just gone on maternity leave. My parents were coming to visit, to be there for the baby’s birth. Harry and Ginny came for dinner. The car need -_

“My car broke down,” she started, glancing at Harry to see his eyebrows lift in surprise, “and you came to get me.” Harry nodded and she went on, growing more confident in her answer, “we went to the chippy. It was raining. You had a sausage supper except you wanted it plain and they gave it to you battered,” she laughed, “They always do that. I don’t know why you even bother to ask for a plain one.” Harry wasn’t laughing though. He was standing from the bed and murmuring.

“What?” she asked, panicked now, “Harry what is it? You’re _scaring_ me.”

“Hermione. That was ten years ago.”

“No,” she disagreed instantly, shaking her head vehemently, “no it wasn’t Harry.”

He pursed his lips and Hermione suddenly wished someone else, anyone else, was there, telling her this was just a big misunderstanding and that she hadn’t really lost the past ten years of her life.

“Harry,” she said, “Harry?” she said again when he still didn’t move. He looked up expectantly.

“Where’s my husband Harry?” She swallowed nervously.

Where’s Tom?”

She expected him to grin and say he’d got stuck in traffic. That he was stuck in a meeting. That he was picking up their son and bringing him to her. That he was doing everything he could to get to her.

She didn’t expect Harry’s face to fall even further. For him to look away uncomfortably and wring his hands together as though the world was about to end with what he was about to say.

“Hermione,” he said carefully, and Hermione wasn’t sure what the next words out of his mouth were going to be, but she knew they didn’t bode well for her. “Tom’s not coming.”

“Why not?” She asked sharply, folding her arms in front of her chest and tensing her jaw, “I’m his wife. Does he even know I’m here? He’d be here if he knew Harry, this is Tom we’re talking about,” she said defensively, “I want you to call him. Now Harry. I want you to call him- no, “ she broke off, scrambling forward to reach a bag, that she presumed was hers, on the floor beside her, “I’ll call him.”

“Hermione,” Harry said as she tipped her bag onto the bed in front of her, a purse, keys, tissues, a pacifier, sweets and finally a phone tumbling out in front of her, “Hermione please.”

“Aha,” she muttered, picking the flimsy looking iPhone that was vastly different from the one she remembered. She poked at it a few times and gasped, dropping the phone, when a picture of herself and two kids flashed on the screen.

_Two kids. I - We have two kids. A boy AND a girl. Two kids I don’t remember. Two whole lives I’ve forgotten._

A sob escaped her and she tossed the phone away like it burned her hands. Harry crossed the room and knelt at her feet.

“I want Tom,” she cried, hysterical now.

“I know Hermione bu-”

“Would you just tell me instead of pussyfooting around it Har-”

“You’re getting a divorce.”

She laughed, twisting out of his arms to glare at him, “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. But her eyes darted to her hand and she saw that it was empty, that there was neither an engagement nor a wedding ring resting on her ring finger, only a pale ring of skin reminding her where it used to be.

* * *

 

Harry left her when she’d calmed down. She’d crawled into her hospital bed and let the nurses and doctors poke and prod her in silence.

“You hit your head quite hard love,” they’d said gently to her, coaxing her to lie down and rest, “you’ll have a CT in the morning and then you can go home.”

She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to wake up from the nightmare her life apparently was. Her hand kept running over her bare finger, reminding her that what Harry said must be true.

A Divorce. They were getting a divorce. She couldn’t believe it. She’d cried for hours when the nurses had said good night and left her in peace, sobbing into her pillow, great wracking breathes filling her lungs as she cried her heart out.

_Why?_ She asked herself over and over and over again. _Why are we getting a divorce?_ She couldn't figure it out. She loved him. **They loved each other.** They had two kids together. Wasn’t that enough? What could possibly have happened between them? What had led them to the dreaded “D” word?

* * *

 

_“My parent’s will be at graduation.”_

_“Well it is graduation Granger,” he murmured and Hermione knew if she looked up he’d be smirking._

_“You know what i mean you git,” she huffed, whacking him on the chest with the hand that wasn’t trapped under him. “They want to meet you,” she added after a few minutes._

_“Do they now? And what precisely have you told them about me, eh Granger?” He asked smugly._

_“That you’re an arsehole,” she grumbled into his chest. He laughed and Hermione curled her body closer against his, “and that i’m going to be living with you when we go to University in three months.”_

_“Really?” He asked, rolling over so that they were both on their sides facing each other, his football jersey slipping off one of her shoulders and revealing her creamy, bare skin. “You’ve decided then?”_

_“Well,” she thought aloud, “it’s an awfully convenient location. There’s a tumble dryer and the company won’t be too terrible,” she teased, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling coyly up at him._

_“Bitch,” he growled, leaning down to nip at her lips. Hermione smirked against his and nudged him away before they could get distracted again._

_“What about yours? Will they be there?” Tom’s jaw stiffened and she felt him tense._

_“My mother, undoubtedly will be. I’m not sure if my father will be able to tear himself away from his latest bit of skirt to see his only son graduate,” he gritted out._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered quietly, “I didn’t rea-”_

_“They’re divorced,” he said, shivering. Hermione frowned but didn’t interrupt, “She finally divorced him when he came home with another woman.”_

_“Jesus.”_

_“Yip.”_

_They lay in silence, cuddling in the warmth of Tom’s dormitory until the sun disappeared and the room was gloomy._

_“She’s happier now. My mother,” he clarified, “but-” he paused and looked down at her, “I would never put my children through that. I would rather work to death on my marriage than do that.”_

_Hermione gasped and pressed herself forward, her lips brushing his firmly. “I agree,” she murmured, “I completely agree.”_

_“Good,” he nodded, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her atop him, “I fully intend on never divorcing you Granger. I’m glad you know that.”_

_“Have to marry me first,” she taunted, smiling against his lips._

_“Oh. I know.”_

* * *

 

She jolted awake at the memory, her body shooting up and “Tom” escaping from her lips. The room around her was still dark and she whimpered when she _remembered_ where she was. That she was alone. And that apparently, lots of things had changed.

She fell back into the pillows and noticed her phone on the table beside her. Harry had found, and plugged it into charge for her before he’d left but she hadn’t glanced at it once. She reached over, unplugged it and pressed the home button so that she could see the faces of her two children again, silently praying that their angelic faces would jog her memory.

Except, there was a tonne of green bubbles taking up the screen. Missed calls and text messages. Hermione frowned when she realised that Tom’s name didn’t appear once. Her frown deepened and transformed into confusion though when she saw how many of the calls and texts were from someone called ‘Draco’. There were hearts after his name and she dropped the phone _again_ at the realisation.

God, who was she?

 


	3. The "New" Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Riverwriter for beta'ing this and fixing all my awful tense mistakes <3

She’d managed to get back to sleep, a fitful one at best though. Her dreams had been filled with random things, memories, or manifestations of her current reality, she wasn’t sure but at least Tom had been there, even if he had spent most of the night scowling at her.

She smiled prettily at the nurses when they asked  her how she was feeling and answered all their questions as best she could. She was relieved in a way, when Harry came back later that morning, doctor in tow and was told she could leave. He’d said that her CT had come back clear and that they were sure she’d remember everything in a few days, a week at most. Harry had smiled brightly at her. She’d only just managed to smile grimly back at him, before he started to help her gather up her things.

“I don’t know how to work that,” she’d said when she came back into the room after changing in the bathroom and saw him frowning at where she’d tossed her phone to the side. He’d laughed.

“God you are a totally different person. Here,” he said moving across the room towards her and placing the mobile in her hand, “you just hold your thumb down and-”

“Voila,” she murmured lowly as the screen flared to life. “Thanks Harry.” He hadn’t been able to stop laughing.

He drove the pair of them in silence and she breathed a sigh of relief when recognised the road he was driving down. At least she was going back to something familiar. She had a million questions to ask Harry but she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers from him. She wanted to see Tom and ask him herself. She had to hear the truth from the horse’s mouth; she wasn’t sure she’d believe it until she did.

Harry pulled into her driveway and she raised an eyebrow at the sleek black BMW that was parked in there. Clearly she was doing well for herself to have such an expensive car, but she felt slightly disappointed in the fact that she obviously wasn’t as invested in saving the environment as she once had been. Harry jumped out of the car and quickly rounded it to help her out. She rolled her eyes at him but let him guide her up the porch steps anyway. Better to let him think he was being helpful.

He took the keys she’d found in her bag and opened the door for them, stepping in and scooping up her mail before she had a chance to.

“I’ll just leave this here,” he said quietly, placing the letters on a sideboard she’d never seen before. She stepped forward and ran her hands over the wood, her head swivelling as she took in the myriad of picture frames on both the piece of furniture and the walls of her hallway. It was still painted the shade of apricot she’d strong armed Tom into painting it when they’d first moved in. She could tell that it had recently been touched up too, because it hadn’t lost any of the vibrancy one would expect after a decade. 

She moved slowly through the hall, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, her hand trailing over dozens of photo frames, as she took in her life. She came to a stop in front of one particular photo, the silver frame catching her eye even though it was at the back of the sideboard. 

It was of her and Tom and their two children. Their Family. Her fingertips traced the shape of them all. They were at the beach, laughing. Tom had their son on his shoulders and there was a tiny baby girl clutched in Hermione’s arms, her own arms stretching outwards towards Tom. They looked so  _ happy. _

“That was a good day,” Harry said from behind her and Hermione jumped, dropping the photo hastily and turning to look at him. 

“They’re beautiful,” she said, her eyes darting further along the walls. She swallowed and looked to her friend. “What are their names?”

Harry’s smile faltered and he pulled her into a swift hug before leading her into the living room and setting her on the sofa. It was new, well  _ newer _ than the one she remembered owning. The living room was painted differently now too. Dark navy blue walls, with cream upholstery and curtains. A dark coffee table sat in front of the open fireplace she’d fallen in love with when Tom had first brought her to see the house and there were more pictures sitting atop the mantlepiece, some of people and places she recognised from a distance, and others that were as foreign to her as the feeling in her stomach.

She was snapped from her reverie by Harry thrusting a photo album into her hand. She took it instantly and flipped it open to the middle. Hermione gasped at the little boy beaming up at her. He couldn’t have been more than four in the picture. He was missing his two front top teeth and had red sauce smeared across his cheeks. His black hair,  _ so like Tom’s _ she thought, was falling over his brown eyes. He was the perfect mix of them both. He had her eyes, Tom’s bone structure and her curls.

“This is Alexander,” Harry said beside her.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered, a tear slipping from her eye. She swiped it with the back of her hand and turned the page.

“That’s Olivia.” Hermione’s heart broke at the image of the baby girl looking up at her. She had black hair too, but Tom’s eyes and her nose and freckles spattered across her tiny face, “She’s two now,” Harry said quietly beside her and Hermione nodded.

“And Alexander must be what, nine?”

Harry nodded and Hermione swallowed, closing the album and clutching it to her chest. “Where are they?”

“At school, Tom’s going to pick them up and bring them home later.” Hermione’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing that. She glanced at Harry’s watch to see that it was a little after noon. Only a few hours and she’d see her husband. Only a few hours and she’d ‘meet’ her children. 

“When did we split up?”

Harry cringed and looked away. Hermione fiddled with a loose thread on a cushion beside her and waited as patiently as she knew how. She didn’t imagine it was easy for Harry to tell her intimate details of her own life. “Tom moved out seven months ago.” Hermione nodded.

“And when did we decide to get a divorce?”

“Hermio-”   
“Please Harry,” she pleaded, gripping his arm, “I don’t remember and it’s killing me.” Harry sighed but nodded.

“Four months ago. At the beginning of the summer,” he admitted reluctantly. Hermione nodded and bit down on the inside of her cheek.  _ Three months. That’s all the time they had taken to work on their marriage. Had things really gotten that bad between them? _

“Did he cheat?” she asked, feeling ill at the thought. Harry shook his head and her eyes narrowed, “Did I?”

“Merlin no Hermione,” he exclaimed and Hermione slumped back into the sofa, “Why would you think that?” She shrugged. 

“Because I can’t think of any reason I’d want to separate from the love of my life,” she muttered petulantly, glaring at her bare hand.

“Do you want me to stay?” Harry asked when she hadn’t spoke again after a few minutes.

Hermione snorted and leveled a glare at him, “what, don’t trust me?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “no, I mean yes. I mean,” he said glaring back at her, his lips twitching with amusement, “that I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

Hermione shrugged and stood slowly from the sofa, “Tom will be here.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he mumbled lowly, following his best friend out into the hallway and stopping at the bottom of the stairs she was already halfway up, “Are you su-”

“Harry,” she clipped, “I will be fine.”

Harry lifted his hands in defeat and nodded. “I’m just trying to help.”

Hermione sighed and stepped back down towards him, “I know. I’m sorry. But really I will be fine.” Harry nodded jerkily and hugged her tightly.

“Call me if you need anything. My number is saved on the landline. And now you know how to use your fancy iPhone,” he winked.

Hermione laughed and pulled back from him, “I know. I remember that. Well, the landline anyway.”

Harry grinned and left and Hermione fell onto the step, her arms wrapping around her body as she took in the silence.

“Ok then Hermione,” she mumbled to herself, standing after a few minutes, “let’s find out who you are.”

* * *

 

There was a man’s razor in her shower. But since Harry told her Tom moved out over half a year ago she didn't want to explore that thought. There were clothes she’d never be caught wearing hanging in her closet. Expensive, designer labels, that had always been out of her price range. She had to  _ hunt _ for a pair of comfortable shoes and almost cried with joy when she discovered her trusty pair of pink high-tops hiding at the back of her closet. She was less lucky in finding a pair of jeans and had to make do with a blue dress that was much too summery to be wearing in September. She knew it was September thanks to Harry mentioning she celebrated her birthday just last week. And the calendar that she found pinned to her fridge confirmed the fact. 

Thirty three. She couldn't believe it. She’d stared at the reflection of herself for a good twenty minutes when she’d stepped out of the shower earlier and marvelled at her body. 

Her breasts were a bit bigger sure, her hips a little rounder, but there was no obvious evidence that she’d had two children. She looked good. Better than she’d ever imagined she would at this age. She momentarily had a thought that it wasn’t because she let herself go, that her and Tom were getting a divorce. Then she mentally slapped herself for the thought. Tom had  _ never _ made her feel less than beautiful. Even when she was waddling around eight and a half months pregnant, unable to see her own two feet and barely able to get off the couch by herself.

_ “You look radiant love,” he murmured into her ear, slipping his hand around her waist and over her bump to press himself against her. “I have to stop myself from bending you over multiple times a day,” he nipped against her neck, even as he ground his erection against her ass and rolled an already sensitive nipple, between his fingers. _

_ “Don’t know how you think you could possibly bend me over anywhere,” she gasped when he slipped two fingers between her folds. _

_ People change _ a snide voice, that sounded awfully like her mother reminded her - she batted that thought away, and busied herself preparing some sandwiches.  _ Kids like peanut butter right? _ She thought, as she spread the condiment across some bread she’d found after rummaging around in her cupboards. Everything was in a different place to what she remembered and she’d almost given up on the idea entirely until she’d spotted the bread bin in the corner of her worktops. She plated the sandwiches up, collapsed into a chair and thought about what she’d say to her husband when he arrived home with their children.

_ Hi honey. I’m sorry I don’t remember the past ten years of our life together but I was thinking we could start over. Forget this whole ‘divorce’ thing? _

She snorted at that and glanced at her phone. Only two o’clock she thought warily, as she pulled it towards her and held the thumb against the home button like Harry had shown her. She smiled at the picture of Alexander and Olivia that flashed up, ignored the numerous missed calls and texts she had, and instead opened her photos. She grinned as soon as she did. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of them both sprang up. Laughing, crying, smiling, pouting. Olivia seemed to enjoy playing with her phone because there were plenty of the little girl. Hermione grinned and swiped through them. There were even some of the three of them together. Cuddled into the couch reading. Outside playing. She didn’t remember who’d taken them but she was glad that the moments had been captured for her to see. 

She kept swiping until she came across a picture of her and a blonde man. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulder and they were both grinning into the camera. Hermione almost didn’t recognise herself with a pair of sunglasses on and red lipstick staining her lips. She didn’t recognise the man at all, but she readily admitted to herself that he was handsome.  **Very handsome** . Strong jaw and high cheekbones and grey eyes. She swiped a few more times and discovered more pictures of him. Them together, him with her kids. She felt guilt swirl in her stomach until she had to force herself to stop looking.  _ That must be Draco _ she thought, standing from the table and approaching the fridge for a drink of water. She owned one of those fancy american fridge -freezers that she had fantasised about when she was a child. She laughed as she held a glass to it, her hands shaking.  _ Calm down _ she chastised herself, downing the water in one and placing the empty glass in the sink,  _ just calm down Hermione. _

The doorbell rang and she frowned.  _ It’s too early to be Tom _ she thought as she moved into the hallway and opened the door.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a voice drawled, "don't you know how to answer your phone?" Unfolding his arms and standing from where he’d been leaning against the wall, Hermione instantly recognised him as the man from the pictures.

“Draco,” she murmured and although she couldn’t remember him, her body obviously did, because she felt herself blushing and heat gathering between her thighs as he smirked and stepped into the hallway. She took a step back and he kicked the door closed with his heel before yanking her into his arms. His head dropped down to her shoulder, and she felt his breath hot against her bare skin.

“I missed you gorgeous,” he rasped before he brought his lips to hers and kissed her. Hermione barely had a chance to register what was happening before he was lifting her into his arms and setting her on top of the sideboard, his mouth never leaving hers as his teeth nipped and sucked and licked at her lips. Hermione moaned into the kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist, all thoughts of logic and propriety leaving her as she felt his erection press against her underwear. She was so distracted by the feel of him against her that she didn’t hear the front door open.

“Mama.”

“Yuck!”

“Ahem.” 

Hermione’s head snapped back from Draco’s and she turned to see who had interrupted them. 

She felt the blood drain from her face when she met Tom’s hard glare.

And then she remembered that she’d forgotten.


	4. A Common Whore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riverwriter is a babe for listening to me go on about this and for once again beta'ing <3

“Tom.”

Draco jerked back from her and even Tom seemed surprised at the breathy way his name had escaped her. She slipped off the sideboard and past Draco without much thought and made her way towards her husband. He looked almost the same as she remembered. His shoulders were perhaps a little broader and he’d taken to growing his facial hair a little, rather than shaving every morning but he was still Tom. His eyebrows still made that little dimple when he frowned and his jaw still tensed when he was upset about something. 

She almost snorted but couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. 

His jaw  _ was  _ tense. 

He  _ was  _ upset. 

Perhaps things weren’t as bad as she’d believed,  _ though I doubt arriving home to catch your wife practically dry humping some stranger is anything to be pleased about, _ she thought as she strode towards him. 

She’d almost reached him when something, _someone_ _,_ barrelled straight into her stomach and stopped her. She looked down to see Alexander, cuddling her for dear life and she immediately dropped to her knees in front of him.

It was like looking at a picture of nine-year-old Tom. Except of course, she’d never seen a picture of Tom crying the way her son was openly sobbing right now and she carefully drew him into her arms and rocked him right there in the middle of the hallway, ignorant of the stares Draco was giving her and the glares Tom was giving him.

“I was so worried mummy,” he sobbed into her chest. Hermione’s eyes stung and her heart broke, “Auntie Ginny said we couldn't come and see you. That you were in the hospital and that and -” he broke off, dissolving into hysterics. Hermione looked up at Tom, and something in her expression must have alerted him to the seriousness of the situation, and how ill-equipped she was to handle it, because he sighed and moved past her, Olivia bouncing in his arms and stepped into the kitchen. Hermione scooped her son into her arms and followed him. She didn’t even notice Draco as she passed him.

“And I remember that...that auntie Daph… was in the hospital and she...she-” he continued as they stood in the kitchen. 

“Alex,” Tom warned and Hermione jerked her head up to see him looking sternly at their son.

“What?” she asked, “What is it?” Tom just shook his head and placed Olivia in the highchair at the top of the table and passed her one of the sandwiches Hermione had made earlier.

“I see you’re still here,” Tom said bitterly, a few minutes later as he fed Olivia and Hermione turned, Alexander still quietly sobbing in her arms, to see Draco leaning against the kitchen doorway frowning.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” He asked. Hermione could hear the defensiveness in his tone but she had no intention of interrupting their pissing contest. Instead she moved to sit down and gently nudged a peanut butter sandwich into Alex’s hands.

Tom snorted and sat down opposite Hermione, beside Olivia. “Do you even know where your  _ girlfriend  _  was last night?”

Hermione flinched and scowled across the table, but Tom wasn’t looking at her.

“Well?” he asked, when Draco said nothing, “do you?”

“Hermione?” Draco said quietly.

“Do you even know who he is?” Tom asked her.

Hermione clutched Alexander tighter to her and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, “Tom.”

“And here you were practically copulating in the hallway,” he sneered at her before turning back to look at Draco. “She was in the hospital. She hit her head. She has no recollection of the past decade. Do you?  _ Wife _ .” He said it so harshly that Hermione felt her heart break all over again. Who was this bitter man in front of her, mocking her for something she had no control over. She turned to look at Draco, who was staring wide eyed at Tom. His eyes flicked to her and she saw his jaw tense and his back straighten.

“Well then,” he said, “I’ll leave you both to it. It seems like you have a lot of things to discuss.”

He was gone before Hermione even had a chance to shift her son in her arms, the door slamming loudly.

She turned her head back towards her husband but he was busy feeding Olivia, who thankfully was babbling and chatting away like nothing untoward had just happened.

“Tom,” she said softly after a few minutes. He sighed and looked up at her.

“What is it Hermione?”

He sounded so defeated. So  _ tired. _ She opened and closed her mouth several times before she decided on the right thing to say. “I’m sorry.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her and she realised immediately that perhaps that wasn’t the right thing at all.

“You’re free to snog whomever you want to Hermione.”

“Tom,” she breathed, “Tom it wasn’t like that.” He snorted, “It wasn’t” she protested, slipping Alexander into the chair beside her, “he took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anyone else but you and then he was on me and-”

“Hermione please,” he drawled, “you had your legs wrapped around his waist like some common whore.” She recoiled from him and he at least had the decency to wince at his word choice, “I’m sorr-”

“No,” she interrupted, standing from the table and moving to open a bottle of wine she’d spotted in the fridge earlier, “please continue to call me a whore in my own home. It’s wonderful by the way, “ she bit out, fumbling with the bottle opener and pouring an indecently large glass of rose for three in the afternoon, “to wake up and discover that you’ve misplaced the past ten years of your life. Forgetting not only the birth of your first child, “ she jerked her head in their son’s direction, as she took a large gulp of the cold wine, “but also, the entire pregnancy of your second.” She paused and took another large gulp, and ignored the saltiness of her tears, “but that’s not even the worst bit. No, oh no,” she gritted out sarcastically, coming to stand in front of him and relishing, just a little, in how shocked he looked, “the worst bit  _ Tom _ is finding out that apparently the love of your life no longer loves you. That you’re getting a divorce. That you both only spent three months working on something that was supposed to last forever.”

“Fucking Potter,” he mumbled under his breath.

They stared at each other for seconds before Hermione burst into tears and fell into his lap. Tom’s arms wrapped around her automatically and even Olivia quietened down her chatter.

She was vaguely aware of Alexander saying something to Tom and then the sound of a chair scraping until she looked up and saw that it was just the two of them.

“Here,” Tom murmured as he passed her a tissue, “your makeup will run.” 

“I’m not wearing any,” she muttered and looked up when Tom laughed.

“Jesus, you’re really not,” he said. Hermione could hear a hint of teasing in his tone, “I can’t remember the last time I saw you without make-up on.”

Hermione felt more tears well up in her eyes, “I can’t remember anything Tom. I can’t remember most of our marriage. I can’t remember Alexander, he’s so beautiful, and Olivia. God Tom,” she whispered, tears flowing freely now, “Tom she’s so perfect. How did we make something so perfect?”

“I know love,” he breathed softly, clutching her tighter and stroking her hair, “I know.”

“What happened?” she asked, “What happened to us?”

She felt him sigh against her hair and then he shifted her to her feet and sat her back down in his empty chair. She watched in silence as he moved around the kitchen and got her a fresh glass of water and removed the almost empty wine glass from her reach.

“Drink this,” he said in a tone Hermione remembered brokered no argument. She downed the glass and wiped her face.

“Thanks.”

“It’s fine.” 

She snorted and glanced at him, a single eyebrow raised at his word choice, “You know what I mean.” He sat back down opposite her and she frowned at the distance he’d placed between them once again.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded, “me too,” she whispered.

“What happened?” he asked. Hermione jolted and frowned. 

“I was out with Ginny. We were at the supermarket?” She looked to Tom for confirmation and when he nodded she breathed a sigh of relief, “I guess there was a spillage or something because apparently I slipped. Knocked my head real hard too. There was a lot of blood. Well I think there was a lot of blood,” she frowned, “I’m sure someone mentioned that. I thought I’d lost the baby.”

“You’re ...pregnant?” He asked hesitantly, not meeting her eye. Hermione glared at him.

“Alexander, Tom. I thought I’d lost Alexander.”

“Oh,” he said, shifting in his seat nervously. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but he simply waved his hand dismissively, “go on.”

“That’s it. That’s all I remember.”

“And what’s your last actual memory before the hospital?”

“My car breaking down and Harry picking me up,” she said immediately. Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Like, fuck, that was, that was ten years ago Hermione.”

She glared at him, “I know.”

“Wow.”

“Now you know how I feel. Your turn.”

He grimaced and got up from his seat to fetch the open bottle of wine and brought two glasses with him, “Do you mind?”

“This is your house too,” she replied absentmindedly before she realised what she’d said. Tom hadn’t seemed to notice.her slip though, or if he did, he didn’t point it out to her. He passed her a fresh glass of wine and she sipped it slowly as he gathered his thoughts.

“Do you know who Daphne is?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes across the table at him, and her hand subconsciously gripped the wine glass tighter, “Harry told me you didn’t cheat,” she grit out.

His eyes flashed dangerously, “I didn’t,” he snarled, “I-”

“Mummy?”

Both of them jerked back at the sound of Alexander’s voice, “Mummy,” he repeated wandering into the kitchen now, Olivia following carefully behind her big brother, her little hand grasped in his, “I’m hungry mummy.”

Hermione nodded, “Of course love,” she flicked her eyes to Tom and he seemed to understand what she was saying.

“I’ll order us some pizza.”

“Pizzzaaaaa,” Olivia cheered, grinning at Tom. Hermione stared at her and watched as Tom lifted and swung her towards the ceiling. 

She realised then, as Alexander climbed into her lap and cuddled into her, that she hadn’t even held her daughter yet. 

* * *

Hermione watched Tom in the shadow of Alexander’s doorway as he read him a story and put him to bed. All afternoon and evening, she’d watched him be the father she’d always known he would be. It was nice- even though their own relationship was clearly in tatters and they could barely look at one another- to have this memory of him. 

He crept silently from Alex’s room and joined her in the hallway. They both stood and watched him sleep.

“I haven’t done that in awhile,” Tom murmured lowly. Hermione glanced at him from where she stood and frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he started glancing at her, his jaw tensing slightly, “that they don’t stay with me in my cramped one bedroom apartment very often.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “why not?”

Tom sighed, “it doesn’t matter Hermione.”

“Am I that much of a bitch now?” She asked. Tom snorted. “Well,” she said, quickly moving on, “You’re very good with them. I mean,” she started when Tom raised an eyebrow at her, “I always knew you would be. It’s just nice to see it you know?”

Tom sighed and moved away, heading back down the stairs. Hermione followed him and felt her hands twitch when he began to pull his blazer on.

“Can’t you stay?” She asked, as he shucked his collar. He shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Hermione.”   
“Why not?”

“Because,” he said, a smile twitching at his lips, “you’re very much in love with a very different Tom. And I don’t think I could take advantage of you like that.”

“I don’t think-”

“Hermione.” She hadn’t realised she’d moved. Moved from the bottom step of the stairs and towards him. Her hands were grasping the lapels of his blazer. “You have a boyfriend,” he reminded her, gently removing her hands from his person.

Hermione shook her head, “You’re my husband.”

Tom smirked, “You’re awful.” 

She grinned up at him and sighed, leaning her head against his chest she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow. I normally take them to see my mother on Sundays but you can come along too if you want?”

Hermione nodded, “that would be nice,” she said, releasing him from her grip.

“Get some rest. I don’t need Potter moaning at me that I kept you up half the night,” he said making his way towards the door.

“I wish you were keeping me up half the night,” she mumbled. Tom smirked at her as he opened the door.

“I heard that,” he said, before he stepped out into the night and pulled the door closed behind him. Hermione sank onto the stairs for the second time that day.

“Well,” she pondered aloud, thinking about the day she’d just had, “that was awful.”

* * *

 

Apparently, thirty-three year old Hermione didn’t like pyjamas. Well, not real ones anyway. Hermione had only been able to find slinky negligees in her pyjama drawer when she’d been getting ready for bed. But she remembered, and thought perhaps that this was something older Hermione had forgotten, that Tom’s old football shirts were tucked into a box at the back of their closet. Sure enough, when she’d gone rooting through the wardrobe, she’d found it. She’d grinned and pulled her favourite, his home jersey from their seventh year at Hogwarts, over her head and pulled the collar up to cover her face. It still smelt like Tom. After all these years. She reasoned that it probably had come out of the box over the years, but still. She stepped out of her room and checked quickly on Alexander, who was still sleeping soundly, and made her way towards Olivia’s room.

She slipped into the room and hovered over the cot. She had her thumb in her mouth and was sound asleep. Hermione reached her hand down and ran it gently over her head. She felt tears welling in her eyes and allowed a few of them to escape.

“I love you so very much,” she whispered, “I know I do.”

She left then, afraid that she’d wake her up and collapsed into her own bed. Instinctively, she rolled over and faced Tom’s side of the bed. Her hand reached out and ran down the empty space. She closed her eyes.

_ “What are you thinking about?” _

_ Hermione opened her eyes and smirked, “baby names.” _

_ Tom chuckled and nudged her onto her back, as he leaned down and rested his head against her barely there bump. He hummed appreciatively when Hermione wound her hand into his hair and he felt her nails gently scratch at his scalp. _

_ “What about James?” _

_ Hermione’s face scrunched up and Tom laughed, “that’s a no then.” _

_ “William?” she offered. _

_ “Noah?” he replied. _

_ “Ethan?” _

_ “Alex, no, Alexander?” _

_ Hermione smirked, “How long have you been sitting on that one?” Tom rolled his eyes and kissed his way across her stomach. _

_ “Don’t know what you mean love,” he murmured against her hip, nipping it with his teeth. _

_ “Liar,” Hermione grinned down at him as he lifted her leg over his shoulder and worked his lips against the inside of her thighs .Tom shrugged, but she could see he was smirking. _

_ “You like it so what does it matter?” _

_ “Prat,” she mumbled as he dropped his head down and finally placed his mouth against her core. _

Hermione grit her teeth and rolled over in her empty bed.

 


	5. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always - big love to Riverwriter for helping me with this - it was a mess before she got her hands on it <3 And I'm loving all your guesses and hypotheses - keep them coming ;)

“Mummy.”

“Five more minutes.” She mumbled, clutching the duvet tighter and turning over.

“Mummy.” 

A poke this time. Hermione squinted her eyes open to see Alexander standing beside her, his finger still pressed firmly against her shoulder. She realised then that Olivia was screaming and peeled her eyes open, blinking a few times to wake herself up.

It had taken her hours to fall asleep. She’d tossed and turned and stared forlornly at Tom’s side of the bed.

“Mummy, Olivia is crying,” Alexander said, staring at her as though she was mad. Hermione nodded and tossed the duvet back.

“Sorry love. Let’s go get her shall we?” She asked, sitting up and taking his hand in hers as they left the room. 

Olivia was standing, wailing in the cot, as they entered the room and Hermione felt awful for sleeping through her obvious distress.

“I’m sorry sweetie,” she mumbled into her hair, as she lifted her into her arms. Olivia hiccoughed, and Hermione grinned at her son. “Breakfast?”

* * *

 

Hermione wished she’d paid better attention to Tom as he’d moved about the kitchen with ease the previous evening. She couldn’t find anything useful and Alexander had sighed exasperatedly before retrieving his own bowl for the cereal he’d had to point out to her. Thankfully, Olivia was happy enough to chomp on a banana from the fruit bowl and Hermione had managed to feed her some yogurt too.

“Are you ok mummy?” Alexander asked between mouthfuls. Hermione glanced up from her cup of coffee and nodded hesitantly. She wasn’t sure how much Alexander knew about her visit to the hospital, and she definitely didn’t want to worry him further by telling him that she had basically no idea who he or his sister were.

“I’m fine honey. Why don’t you finish your cereal and then go get dressed. Your dad will be here soon.” Alexander narrowed his eyes at her and Hermione resisted the urge to snort. God he looked so much like Tom it was eery. He didn’t answer her back though and he slipped from the table and left Hermione with Olivia.

“He’s very smart.” she whispered to her daughter, who simply smiled and babbled at her.

“Anana,” she exclaimed brightly and Hermione chuckled and continued to pass her the banana.

When she’d finished, Hermione lifted her into her arms and proceeded upstairs.

“You ok Alex?” she called as she passed his room.

“Yes,” he called back. Hermione smiled and entered Olivia’s room and proceeded to marvel at the sheer amount of clothing her two year old daughter had. Though, she supposed, she remembered shopping for baby boy clothing and staring forlornly at the girls section, which always had much more.

Alexander joined her and together they made their way back down the stairs. Hermione was so caught up in watching her two children that she didn’t even realise they weren’t alone anymore.

“Hermione.” Her head snapped up and a grin spread across her face at the sight of Tom standing at the bottom of the stairs watching the three of them descend.

“Hi,” she said.

“Dad,” Alexander exclaimed, bounding down the last few steps and into Tom’s waiting arms.

“Dada,” Olivia babbled, smiling too.

Hermione continued down the stairs and into the living room, settling Olivia onto the sofa and passing her some soft books she spotted sitting on the coffee table.

“You’re not dressed,” Tom said frowning, when she finally looked up. She looked down at herself and smirked. She’d forgotten she was still only wearing one of his old jerseys and that her bare legs were on display for him. She shrugged.

“I forgot that I had to get myself ready too,” she laughed nervously, toying with the hem and stepping towards her husband. Her smirk faltered though when Tom grimaced and looked away from her. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, “but I was thinking,”

_ He doesn’t want me to go with them. With him, _ she thought, instantly recognising the careful way he was speaking to her.

“-It’d be awfully difficult to explain to my mother why you’re with us and,”

“It’s fine,” she snapped, looking away from him and bending down to lift Olivia into her arms. She was reeling. Unsure of herself for the first time in a long time- that she could remember anyway. He was acting so off with her again. She thought that when he’d left last night that they’d be able to attempt another conversation today but obviously -

“Well then. Alex get your coat,” he said, clearing his throat, crossing the room, and lifting Olivia from Hermione’s arms, “your grandmother will be wondering where we are.”

Hermione watched as he ignored her and proceeded to gather the children’s things. Hermione hadn’t even thought about the fact that Olivia would obviously need a changing bag with fresh nappies and -

“We’ll be back around dinnertime,” Tom said, pausing at the front door. Hermione could see that Alexander had already skipped out the door and was belting himself into the back of Tom’s  black Range Rover. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Hermione nodded. The good mood she’d been in since she woke up had evaporated and now. Now she wanted to cry.

Where was the husband that had held her in his arms last night and had to- seemingly reluctantly- drag himself away from her just ten hours ago, lest he do something they regretted and ravish her against the wall? 

Where was the son who’d thrown himself into her arms and sobbed his heart out?

Even Olivia didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Hermione was remaining behind.

The sound of the front door slamming jolted her, “Bye then,” she muttered, glaring at the offending piece of wood.

She drifted back into the living room and flopped onto the sofa, grabbing the remote and flicking the telly on. She passed over the news a few times before settling on a  _ Friends _ rerun.

She couldn’t deal with reality just yet.

* * *

 

Two hours, a box of cereal and half a carton of apple juice later, Hermione was still laid up on the sofa, thoughts about why Merope would be confused to see her swirling in her head.

It was true that she’d always had a tense relationship with her mother in law, not that she’d ever intended for it to be like that, but why would it be confusing to see her now?

She’d smiled and clasped Tom’s hand tightly at their secondary school graduation when he’d introduced her to his mother, but the woman had only sneered at her. She remembered how Tom had apologised profusely later that same evening for his mother’s behaviour. 

On his knees. 

Between her legs.

Four times.

She moaned at the memory and rolled over to face the TV again.  _ Fuck him _ she thought lifting the phone that had laid abandoned since she’d returned home the previous evening for the first time. She almost dropped it when she was looking through her pictures again and it vibrated.

It was a text. 

From Draco.

 

**Hey. I hope this isn't presumptuous, but until yesterday afternoon you and I were in a relationship. A pretty serious one. If what Tom said is true and you don't remember it or me at all….I know that means that you have no reason to trust or care about me but I think we need to have a conversation. We had plans and I just, I need to know what's going on and how to proceed from here.**

**I want to make this as easy as possible for you and am willing to meet you wherever you feel comfortable.**

**I know how you are, I know you need some proof of our relationship: look at the photos on your phone.**

**Just.**

**Please Hermione.**

 

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the long and thoughtful message that Draco had taken the time to write to her and instantly felt awful. God she'd been snogging his face off one second then ignored him completely as soon as Tom had shown up. And he was right. She'd spent a good deal of time thinking about those photographs and how happy they seemed together - how happy Alexander and Olivia appeared in the ones with him too. He had toiletries in her bathroom and probably a few shirts hanging in her wardrobe too. 

She sat up and glanced at the time. Noon. Tom had told her he wouldn't be back with the kids until dinnertime. 

She nodded to herself. 

 

**Hey. Yes. Ok. Sorry I'm still a little thrown by everything that's going on. Do you know somewhere we could meet?**

 

She gnawed nervously on her fingernails as she waited for his reply and jumped when he did.

 

**There's a cafe around the corner from you that you like (liked?) do you remember it?**

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and thought about her drive home with Harry just yesterday.

 

**Vaguely?**

**Half an hour?**

 

She quickly tacked on the second question, jumping from the couch and rushing up the stairs, her phone still clasped firmly in her hand. She almost tripped when she saw his reply and her hand came up to her mouth, a small gasp escaping her. 

 

**I'll see you then.**

**Love you**

**I'm so sorry, that was habit**

 

She didn’t text him back.

* * *

 

She decided to walk to the cafe that Draco had mentioned. It wasn’t too far away and she’d managed to find one pair of jeans in the back of her closet. She paired them with a pair of black ankle boots, a green cashmere jumper and a black trench coat that was obviously one of her favourites, considering the way it was hung up at the front door.

She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as she got closer to her destination and was relieved to find Draco already waiting for her when she stepped into the small but busy cafe.

He stood when he saw her and Hermione felt her mouth go dry as she raked her eyes over him. God, he really was good looking. No wonder she hadn’t complained when he’d kissed her yesterday. She stepped hesitantly towards him and let him give her a quick hug. She breathed him in and recognised the scent of his aftershave as the one she’d spent the night lying in - she stepped back quickly.

“Hi,” she mumbled, averting her eyes and trying not to think about him in her bed as she sat down.

“Hello,” he said. Hermione glanced up to see him watching her and then he stuck his hand out, “Draco Malfoy.” She laughed and reached across the table with her own hand.

“Hermione Riddle,” she said automatically. Draco’s grin faltered a little and Hermione closed her eyes. “I don’t. That’s not my name is it?” She whispered.

Draco ran his thumb over her knuckles a few times before he placed her hand back on the table, “Well,” he started, “It is but - you’ve been going by Hermione Granger for the past six months. It’s just a little odd to hear you say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco snorted, “Oh god love no, please don't. It’s not your fault you don-”

“A caramel latte and a hot chocolate?”

Hermione looked at the waiter and fully expected him to put the hot chocolate down in front of her. Draco chuckled when he saw her eyeing the coffee that was placed in front of her instead, suspiciously.

“That’s your favourite,” he said, smiling at her, “go on,” he encouraged, “try it.”

Hermione grimaced but brought the cup up to her lips and sipped on the beverage. It was both bitter and sweet and she couldn’t fathom how it had become her favourite, “It’s ok,” she mumbled. Draco smiled sadly at her.

“You really don’t remember then huh?”

Hermione shook her head, “I really don’t.” They both sat there, staring at each other until Hermione gathered her courage to ask him a few questions. “Do you,” she paused and gripped her mug tighter, taking another sip of her  _ favourite drink _ , “do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

Draco leaned back in his chair and shook his head, “go for it.”

“Do you know why Tom and I are getting a divorce?” She blurted out. She felt the blood drain quickly from her face, “I’m sorry that’s - God,” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine Gran- Hermione,” Draco laughed and Hermione peeked up to see him smiling at her, “You grew apart.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, “that’s it?”

Draco shrugged, “well no, I suppose it’s actually a lot more detailed and complicated than that but,” he stopped and took a drink. Hermione wanted to lean across the table and lick the whipped cream that had gathered on his top lip clean for him, and then blushed at the realisation. Draco didn’t seem to notice, “I know that what happened with the Notts played a large part but honestly Hermione, I didn’t really ask and you didn’t really tell.”

Hermione nodded, tucking the information about the Notts, whoever they were, away for perusal at a later date, “How long have we been dating?”

“Five months,” Draco smirked.

“How did we meet?”

“At a conference.”

“A conference. I. Why would I-”

“You were there with Tom.”

Hermione spluttered on her coffee and Draco realised his mistake, “You didn’t - we never,” he sighed, “we re-connected  _ after _ , but that’s where we first met.”   
“Oh,” Hermione said quietly, breathing in a sigh of relief, “What do you do?”

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift home?”

They were standing outside the cafe now. Hermione had nearly had a heart attack when she realised they’d been there for close to four hours just talking. Draco had been calm and understanding throughout their afternoon and she understood now why she was so enamoured with him.

She shook her head and smirked up at him. “I’ll be fine. It’s literally a ten minute walk back home.” Draco nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. Hermione couldn’t help but shuffle nervously on the spot too. How did one say goodbye, after what was essentially a date, to someone they had obviously been intimate with on several occasions but had no memory of?

“I can see you again right?” he asked, stepping forward and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Hermione was nodding before she realised it but the grin he gave her made her stomach flutter and she couldn’t help but think it was a good idea. She obviously had feelings for the man in front of her.

“I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, dipping his head and quickly planting a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Bye,” he grinned, turning on his heel and walking away. Hermione watched him for a few moments before she turned and walked towards her home.

Her mind was tumbling with all the new information she’d relearned from him as she walked back and she endeavoured to ask Harry if he knew about any of the things Draco had referred to. She was so distracted that she found herself back home in no time and smiled when she saw Tom’s car parked beside her own. She hadn’t mentioned it to Draco but she was terrified of driving the thing. The last car she remembered driving a been a small hatchback.

She stepped into the house and was met by the sound of laughter and the television blaring. She hung her coat up, shucked off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen. Tom was plating up spaghetti bolognese and her stomach involuntarily rumbled.

“You’re back,” she said. Tom glanced up at her and Hermione sighed to see him looking at her with cool detachment.

“So are you,” he replied teresely.

“Tom,” she started.

“Where were you? We’ve been back for an hour and I tried calling but I had no idea where you were.”

Hermione glared at him, “I didn’t realise you cared. You left here pretty quickly this morning.”

Tom carefully put the saucepan he’d been staring at down and turned off the cooker. Hermione could see his eyes drifting over her person and rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Where were you?”

“None of your business.”

Tom’s nostrils flared and Hermione felt a thrill of satisfaction go through her. Satisfaction and arousal, though she tamped  _ that _ down. If he wanted to be a bastard she could just as easily be a bitch.

“Alexander was asking about why you couldn’t remember where the cereal and bowls were this morning Hermione,” he said and Hermione blinked, shocked by the sudden change of subject and watched as Tom made his way around the island and towards her, “I told him that you’d hit your head and forgotten a few things but that you still knew who he and Olivia were. That he wasn’t to worry.”

“Tom I,” she started. Tom snorted and stepped past her and Hermione watched as he ducked into the living room and quickly said goodbye to Alex and Olivia.

“Don’t bother,” he muttered when he spotted her hovering in the kitchen doorway waiting for him, “not my business remember?”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times but he was already gone. She wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand and looked down to see Alexander tugging on her jumper.

“Mummy?”

“I’m fine sweetie,” she mumbled into his hair as she swept him into her arms and brought him into the kitchen. “Dinner?”


	6. Life goes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever and always love to Riverwriter who really deserves all the love for going through this angst fest with me <3

She managed to get Alexander and Olivia down without much trouble, but as soon as she fell into her own bed she couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling, watching as the moon cast it’s shadows through the window. 

She thought about everything that had happened since Harry had brought her home. Had it really only been yesterday?

She sighed and cast her eyes to the empty spot beside her before grabbing her phone and proceeding to scroll through her photos.  **Again** . It brought her a modicum of peace to look at them. She realised, when the photos began at some point in June, that she must have gotten a new phone then. 

There were no photos of her and Tom but plenty of her and Draco, the kids, even some of her friends; Harry, Ginny, Ron and a woman whom Hermione vaguely recognised as Ron’s girlfriend, from when they were younger, Pansy, though they were obviously married now. It was strange in a way to see how happy she was in the photographs compared to how alone and unhappy she felt right now. Her life seemed rich and full and -

She startled when she heard Olivia sob over the baby monitor that she’d found when she’d spent some time tidying up the kitchen after dinner the night before, and jumped quickly from the bed and made her way across the hall. A quick glance at the time on her phone told her that it was close to five am and she didn’t want Alexander to wake up just yet, not when he had a full day of school ahead of him.

She slipped into her daughter’s room and lifted Olivia into her arms. She wasn’t wide awake but quiet whimpers kept bubbling their way up her throat and Hermione knew that if she put her back down she’d no doubt begin to wail. She carefully settled her into her arms and crossed the hall back to her own bed.   
As she lay there, with Olivia cuddled into her side, she realised there was no point in attempting to fall asleep now. Alexander would be awake in two hours, give or take, and she knew she’d only be more tired if she managed to fall asleep now. Olivia gurgled and Hermione pulled her up onto her chest so that they were face to face. She was more awake now and Hermione leaned into her tiny hand when she reached it forward and cupped her cheek.

“Mummy,” she said quietly. Hermione smiled and turned her head to press a kiss to the inside of her hand.

“Morning sweetie.”

Olivia smiled up at her before nuzzling her head into Hermione's chest and falling quickly into a light sleep. Hermione stroked her short black hair and watched the sun rise.

* * *

 

Hermione managed to get Alexander and Olivia down to the kitchen and eating some breakfast without incident. She remembered where the cereal and bowls were and didn’t have to endure any smart remarks from her son, though he did roll his eyes at her when she placed his breakfast down in front of him, smirking all the while. She’d just sat down to join him in her own bowl of cereal and cup of tea, Olivia was content with more banana and some toast, when the doorbell rang.

A quick glance at the clock she remembered hanging up a decade ago, showed that it was only seven-forty-five, and she stood, frowning, wondering who could possibly be at her door that early. She quickly had the thought that it might be Tom and instinctively patted her hair down. She was mildly disappointed, yet relieved, (she had no desire to have yet  _ another _ argument), to open the door and find Ginny and Pansy, along with four small children.

“Well,” Pansy drawled, removing her sunglasses and giving Hermione a once over, “you certainly don’t look ten years younger.”

Hermione blinked, and stepped back as the woman stepped forward and waltzed down the hall and into the kitchen, three of the four children following after her quickly. She didn’t notice Ginny coming in and closing the door behind her until she’d put her arm around Hermione’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” she winced, bouncing the red-headed toddler on her hip gently, “she can be a bit much sometimes, and well,” she paused, tossing Hermione a small smile, “you did have a decade to get used to her.”

Hermione nodded, “You have three kids?” she asked and followed her friend into the kitchen. Pansy had settled the other children around the table beside Olivia and Alexander, and was pouring all of them their own cereal. 

“James, Albus and this,” she bounced the babe in her arms, “is Lily.” She moved to help Pansy, and Hermione watched her two friends move around her kitchen like it was their own. She joined them at the table and watched the children eat and laugh and talk to each other. They were obviously firm friends and spent a lot of time together.

“So,” Pansy started, turning in her chair to look at Hermione, “how are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed,” Hermione murmured, taking a sip from the cup in front of her and wincing when she realised it was coffee, “I hate this.”

“Forgetting most of your life? Realising your marriage is a shambles? Having a hot new boyfriend?” 

Hermione turned to stare at Pansy, even as Ginny reached behind Hermione and swiped her hand across her back, “Pansy!” She hissed.

“What?”

“I meant the coffee,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I need to get ready mummy,” Alexander interrupted. Hermione nodded and stood from her chair. 

“Me too,” she said, turning to her friends, “Olivia?”

“We’ll be fine,” Ginny said smiling at her, and making shooing motions with her hands, “You go get ready.”

Hermione nodded and followed Alexander out of the kitchen, smirking when she heard Ginny chastise Pansy for her thoughtlessness.

Alexander slipped into his room and Hermione into her’s. Alexander reminded her that he was nine and didn’t need her help getting dressed for school, something he’d apparently been doing since he was five.

She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and pulled on the jeans she’d worn yesterday. She pulled a pale blue blouse on and slipped into a different pair of boots. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked like death and she slapped some moisturiser and concealer on in the hopes of hiding the bags that were visible under her eyes - she wished she knew where her own sunglasses were hidden.

She made her way back down the stairs to find everyone gathered in the hallway, pulling on coats and school bags. Ginny was bouncing Lily and Pansy was giggling at Olivia. 

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy ripple through her. “You’re very good with her.”

Pansy shot her a smirk, “I’m her godmother.”

“Oh,” she murmured, startling when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist.

“Just like you’re mine Aunt Hermione,” the older redheaded girl grinned up at her. She glanced up at Pansy, who mouthed ‘Rose’ and smiled down at her goddaughter.

“I am,” she nodded, giving her a quick squeeze before stepping forward to pull her own coat on, ”Shall we?” She asked, opening the door and marching out, the motley crew of children following closely on her heels.

They walked together, Ginny and Pansy on either side of Hermione, whilst Alexander, James, Albus and Rose, skipped on ahead. Hermione envied their energy. They quickly made it to the school. Hermione noticed that some people were casting her wary looks as they stood at the gates and watched their children scamper on in, a few hastily “byes” shouted over their shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why are people staring?” she asked quietly. Pansy discreetly moved her head and scowled.

“Nosy bastards,” she sneered, wrapping her free arm around Hermione’s shoulder. Ginny glared at them.

“It’s nothing, they’re probably just not used to you looking so casual is all.” Hermione blinked and looked down at her ensemble. If she owned any sweats she would have simply thrown them on. She couldn’t imagine spending any more time than she had getting ready to simply drop her son off at school.

* * *

 

“So what exactly do you remember?”

To be fair, Hermione did remember that Pansy had always been a straight to the point type of girl, woman now, and wasn’t surprised by her bluntness. A quick glance at Ginny, who’d thrown her head back against the sofa and was muttering “God give me strength” under her breath, told her that not much had changed in that regard.

They’d walked back from the school together and now Olivia and Lily were playing quietly together in front of them, while the three older women talked.

Hermione fingered the rim of her cup and smirked, “that you don’t like me?”

Ginny snorted and Pansy narrowed her eyes, “haha very funny,” she bristled. Hermione nudged her with her shoulder and sighed.

“Nothing.”

They both hummed, suspecting as much, though Hermione knew Harry would have told Ginny and she, in turn, would have warned Pansy as much. “Have you looked through the albums?” Pansy asked.

Hermione shook her head and took a sip of her tea, “Harry brought one out to show me some pictures of Alex and Olivia but,” she shrugged, placing her cup back down, “I haven’t looked through them myself. The pictures on my phone have been startling enough.”

Pansy nodded and Ginny jumped up and crossed the room to rifle through a bookshelf.

“Here,” she said and thrust an album into Hermione’s lap, “this is as good a place to start as any.”

Hermione nodded and sat back, pulling her legs under her to get comfortable.

The first picture was of her, Tom and Alexander standing in their back garden. There were birthday banners and streamers in the background, and Alexander was wearing a party hat. Hermione stroked Tom’s face and Pansy quickly turned the page.

“Hey!”

“No!” Pansy said firmly, shaking her head, “Just no.”

Hermione huffed but eagerly swept her eyes over the next photograph, her, Tom and a couple she didn’t recognise. She didn’t miss Ginny’s sharp inhale. “Who is that?” she asked her friend. Ginny winced and looked past Hermione to Pansy. Hermione felt her fingers curl into the palms of her hand. She hated that they were treating her like a child, having a silent conversation about her when she was right there. “Who is it Ginny?”

“It’s the Notts.”

“Theo and Daphne,” Pansy added. Hermione glared at the picture. First Alexander, then Tom - even Draco, had mentioned the couple in this picture to her since her accident. Clearly something had happened to them. “They were your neighbours,” she continued, sighing and ignoring the glare Ginny was shooting her, “You were all pretty close.” Hermione nodded.

“What happened to them?”

Pansy turned away and Hermione followed her gaze to watch Lily and Olivia, “life,” she muttered lowly. Hermione scoffed and felt a hand wrap around her wrist. She turned to look at Ginny.

“She, Daphne,” she started, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “Daphne died Hermione.”

Hermione jerked back, her wrist escaping Ginny’s grip. Whatever she’d been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that.

* * *

 

Pansy and Ginny left when both Olivia and Lily started up. Hermione has been in too much shock to even realise that they were leaving, the revelation that Daphne had died left her with both so many more questions than she’d already had, and an indiscernible feeling in her stomach that made her want to vomit. She’d spent the past few days thinking the absolute worst of this woman.

She fed and changed Olivia, then bundled her up into the pram that had sat in the hallway, unused for the past few days, and made her way to the park beside Alexander’s school. She had an hour of time to kill before he was finished, though by the time they got there, Olivia had fallen asleep. Hermione sat down on an empty bench and pulled her coat around her tighter, her foot rocking the pram gently. She stared across the park and watched dozens of other parent’s chasing and playing with their children. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she thought about all the times she must have done that herself with Alexander. How she must have watched Tom do it. How many things had she forgotten? She looked down at Olivia - at least she would always have that with her.

Eventually, she noticed that the other parents were beginning to make their way out of the park, and she followed suit. Olivia was still sleeping, and she momentarily thought that perhaps she should wake her up - it wouldn’t do for her to be up half the night when Hermione desperately needed her own rest.

She followed the others but stopped short at the sight of Tom standing a few feet in front of her.  He was wearing a suit and watching the playground for Alexander, his hands tucked firmly into his trouser pockets, hair blowing lightly in the wind. He looked more relaxed than he had done the two previous days, and she was about to turn away and head back home, since he was obviously there to pick up their son and she was surplus to requirements, when he turned and caught sight of her. His lips curled up into a small smile and he jerked his head, an invitation for her to join him in waiting. 

“Hi,” she said, sliding up beside him and turning Olivia's pram so that the wind didn’t bother her.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t know-”

“I normally pick him up on a Monday, Thursday and Friday,” he interrupted, “normally you have plans.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, frowning. Her phone hadn’t made a noise all day, “I’m sorry. I should have-”

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing at her before turning his attention back to the playground just as the doors burst open and a throng of children came running out. Tom moved and re-appeared within seconds, Alexander’s hand tucked firmly in his own, as their son chatted to him about his day.

“Come on,” he said, when Hermione continued to simply stand and stare, “I’ll give you a lift home.”

She nodded mutely and pushed the pram after him, letting him open the passenger door of his car for her as Alexander strapped himself in and Tom gently lifted Olivia out of the pram and into her car seat. She felt content when he slipped into the driver’s seat beside her and smiled warmly at him. Alexander continued to chatter away and she relaxed in her seat, her eyes falling shut as she listened to the pair of them.

She must have dosed off for those few minutes because suddenly Tom was nudging her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly. Tom grinned at her.

“It’s fine.”

Hermione hummed and turned in her seat to see that Alexander had already got out of the car but Olivia was still sleeping. “Do you want to come in for dinner?” She asked, slipping her seatbelt off and looking back at him. His grin faltered and he shook his head.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea-”

“Right-”

“Hermione-”

“No Tom,” she replied, gritting her teeth and doing her best to not let her own smile fall, “It’s fine.”

“I just don’t want to give Alex the wrong impression.”

“Or me,” she muttered, getting out of the car and stepping round to lift Olivia, jostling her awake in the process. She quickly opened the door, ushered Alex inside and slammed it behind her, ignoring the sound of Tom getting out of the car behind her. She let Olivia, who was squirming in her arms, down and leaned against the door. She heard Tom on the other side, mumbling, before he moved away and she heard the car start back up. She stood there, her forehead pressed against the wood of the door, for a few minutes gathering herself before she hung her coat up and wandered into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of both Harry and Ron at her dining table, eating her food and entertaining her kids.

“Hey,” Harry said, grinning at her even as he continued to bounce Olivia on his knee.

“‘Mione!” Ron exclaimed, his mouth full of crisps. Hermione cringed - well some things didn’t ever change.

“Why am I not surprised that you two have keys?” She asked, moving to join them at the table and snagging a bowl of crisps out from under Ron and ignoring his protests, “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Ron said quickly. A little too quickly really. She raised an eyebrow at him and he swallowed nervously. “Well Pansy might’ve mentioned somethin’,” he mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Harry snorted beside her, “and how many times have you seen Tom since you came home?”

Hermione tensed and turned her head slowly towards her best friend, her eyes narrowing as she did. “And what’s that supposed to mean? He is my husband.”

“Who you’re divorcing,” he replied, not looking up from Olivia - oblivious to her fury. Hermione could see that Ron had pulled another bowl of crisps toward him and that his eyes were bouncing between the two of them, “believe me Hermione, you might not remember the past ten years but we do.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Rom grumbled from across the table. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to remember that this was her best friend sitting beside her.

“Harry,” she started, making the man finally drag his attention from her daughter and look at her, “why are you here?”

“I thought you would want to go over Alexander’s schedule for the week, since you know, you obviously don’t remember.”

Hermione had never wanted to hit someone as much in her life but she bit her tongue and endured as Harry rattled off the myriad of afterschool activities that Alexander took part in. She forgot to be angry with him, her mind whirling with the massive amount of information he was dumping on her.

“Jesus,” she groaned, slouching in her seat and pulling her hair from the ponytail it’d been kept in all day, “how the hell do I do it?”

Both Harry and Ron laughed and she sighed when she heard Ron mention something about getting a take-away.

Well, at least someone was staying for dinner.

* * *

She slipped out of Alexander’s room and leaned against the wall between his and Olivia’s room. Her head was throbbing. God it was exhausting. Having some time with Harry and Ron had been nice but she’d had to keep her eyes on Olivia the whole night while she clambered around the kitchen and then the living room. Alexander had been paying rapt attention to both his ‘uncles’ as they regaled him with tales from their time at Hogwarts. Hermione had been glad when they’d left.

She wandered into her ensuite and turned the shower on. When the water was hot enough, she slipped out of her clothes and under the water, breathing a sigh of relief as it fell over her. She was exhausted and the thought of climbing into her bed at only eight PM filled her with joy. She washed swiftly and stepped out of the shower before roughly drying her hair with a towel. She didn’t bother with a brush and simply ran her fingers through it so that it wouldn’t be too tatty in the morning before she pulled Tom’s t-shirt on again and slipped into the bed and smiled. Her phone buzzed beside her and she lifted it quickly, her lips lifting into a grin when she saw that it was from Draco.

**Hey**

* * *

 

“You really don’t have to take me Harry,” Hermione protested as she buckled her seatbelt. Harry smiled at her.

“Of course I do. I know you haven’t driven that fancy car off your’s all week,” he teased. Hermione pursed her lips.

“Shut up.”

They drove in silence towards the hospital. It’d been a week since her accident and she’d had an appointment made for her last week in case her memory didn’t return. She hadn’t even remembered about the appointment until Harry had texted the previous night and reminded her.

The week had flown by in a flurry of school, afternoon clubs, a teething Olivia (according to Ginny, who was going through a similar phase with Lily), texting with Draco and staring at Tom’s name in her phone wondering if she should text  **him** , even as she clutched more of his old shirts that she’d found, to her chest. She’d only seen him once since he’d dropped her home on Monday and that had been last night when he’d brought Alexander back home from his swimming lesson after school, and even that had been awkward.

 

_ “Not going to invite me in for dinner?” _

_ Hermione blinked up at him and tightened her grip on the door, her heart racing at his words, “I mean if you wan-” _

_ “I was just kidding,” he said, shaking his head and making his way back to his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” _

_ He was gone before she had a chance to tell him that no, he wouldn’t see her tomorrow. _

 

“They’ll be fine you know,” Harry said, jolting her from the memory. At her blank look he continued, “the kids. Tonight when we have them for a sleepover,” he continued, dragging his eyes back to the road in front of them, “we’ve looked after them loads before Hermione.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“And I’m sure you and Malfoy will have a good time,” he added, smirking at her. Hermione rolled her eyes - she got the distinct impression that Harry would much rather she moon over Draco than Tom, she wished she understood why.

“Five kids is a lot though,” she mused. 

“Ginny is a Weasley ‘Mione,” Harry laughed, “she’s used to it.” Hermione hummed her agreement and said no more, letting the radio fill the silence between them.

“I’ll wait out here,” Harry said when they got to the hospital and Hermione’s name was called. Hermione squeezed his hand and followed the nurse.

“Ahh Mrs. Riddle,” the doctor exclaimed, “I’ll admit I’m a bit surprised to see you. Still no memory?” He asked. Hermione blinked at him.

“No. Still no memory,” she replied.

The man, Dr.Slughorn, gasped and snapped his head up from the stack of paper he’d been rifling through. “Really?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion - was this man seriously her doctor? “Yes,” she said slowly, “really.”

He ushered her towards the examination table at the side of the room, muttering under his breath all the while about how her memory  _ really  _ should have returned by now and that she’d have to have another CT, perhaps even an MRI.

“Bloods. You’re going to need bloods done and - MARY,” he shouted, startling Hermione as she lay on the bed and he moved towards his door, “Mary she’s going to need bloods and book a CT and-”

Hermione groaned and let her head fall back, the memory of the last time she remembered being in such a position playing across the inside of her eyelids.

 

_ “I hate you so much right now,” Hermione winced, the cold jelly being spread on her belly doing nothing to help her mood. It didn’t matter that they were finally going to see an ultrasound of their thirty week old son today. It mattered that he’d kept her up half the night with his kicking of her bladder, whilst Tom had slept soundly in bed beside her. She swore she’d seen him smirking in his sleep - like he could tell her irritated she was. _

_ Tom chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hair, “sssshhh,” he whispered, intertwining their fingers, “he’ll hear you.” _

_ “Good,” she muttered petulantly, glaring down at her bump, their son visibly moving within it, “maybe then he’ll listen to me when I tell him to quit being annoying.” _

_ Tom chuckled. _

 

“Ok Mrs. Riddle you’ll just feel a small prick.”

Hermione nodded and kept her eyes shut, the image of Tom smiling fondly down at her fading as the nurse got to work.


	7. Second, Second First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love to Riverwriter for helping me drag this chapter (kicking and screaming) to the finish line.

The drive back from the hospital was eerily quiet, even with the radio playing lowly in the background. Harry had waited patiently for her as Dr.Slughorn and his nurse had poked and prodded and examined her and she had another appointment in a few days, though Slughorn had insisted that her memory would have returned by that point and that it wasn’t really necessary. Hermione had glared at the man until he’d acquiesced. She hadn’t had any  _ flashback _ moments, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that they were suddenly going to start and restore a decade’s worth of memories in a few days either.

As Harry drove through the streets of London and back towards the suburbs, Hermione spotted places and remembered times she’d been there with Tom. 

There was the bar where they’d spent the night of his eighteenth birthday , celebrating the new year with all their friends, and in which he’d shagged her against the wall later that night.

There was the restaurant that her parent’s and Tom’s had met for the first time their first week of university and where they had then proceeded to endure one of the most awkward evenings either one of them had ever experienced.

There was the bus stop they’d had their first fight under after Rosier had mocked her for her “bleeding heart” and Tom had said nothing in her defence. It was under the same bus stop, a week later, they’d reconciled.

Hermione supposed it was natural, given her current state, to remember all these tiny details with so much accuracy. She only wished she could remember the past decade with as much.

“So,” Harry said, jolting her from her quiet reverie, “I’ll drop you off and Ginny will help you get ready, then she’ll bring Olivia and Alexander round to our’s once Tom drops Alex home. Have you got their bags packed?” Hermione nodded and fiddled with the dial on the radio.

“Alex helped me last night,” she said rolling her eyes at how he’d been very specific in the clothes and pyjamas he wanted to take on his sleepover before he'd abandoned her when she’d needed to pack Olivia’s.

“Good,” Harry said, pulling into her drive so that she could jump out, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to have too much fun tonight,” he teased. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and slipped her seatbelt off.

“You’re far too invested in my love life Harry Potter.” He simply laughed and Hermione waved as he reversed out of the driveway before she turned on her heel and walked towards the front door. She shuddered, involuntarily, as she passed her own car and slipped quietly into her house to find Ginny flicking through the television channels.

“Hey,” she said quietly, mindful of the fact that neither Olivia or Lily were anywhere in sight, “where are the girls?”

“Sleeping. They were both exhausted. If I’m honest I’m surprised you’re not coming home to find me passed out on this couch too,” she smirked, shifting her legs so that Hermione could join her. “How was it?”

Hermione shrugged, and pointedly avoided her friends stare, “it was fine. They took bloods. Gave me another appointment for next week.”

“They’re not very useful are they,” Ginny said, dropping her gaze to the remote and flicking it off in the process. “Anyway,” she said, rising from the couch and pulling Hermione with her, “I was thinking we could have a light lunch before you get ready.”

Hermione nodded, “Sure. What do you want?”

Ginny snorted, “No. I’ll cook. You sit down and drink a glass of wine while I rustle us up some sandwiches or something”

“Ginny,” Hermione started settling herself at the table, “It’s barely two. I can’t have a glass of wine now.”

Ginny looked over at her, her head peeking round the open door of the fridge. “God, Harry was right.”

“What?”

“You really are a completely different person,” she laughed.

Hermione blinked at her.

* * *

 

When they were finished eating the small selection of sandwiches and soup that Ginny had rustled up, Hermione led Ginny up the stairs. They both ducked their heads into Olivia’s room to find the two toddlers sprawled out in her cot, their heads at either end. 

Hermione stared wistfully at the pair of them and resisted the urge to creep in and scoop Olivia into her arms.

“Don’t even think about it ‘Mione,” Ginny warned, clutching her friend’s arm and steering her towards her own bedroom, “I’m not dealing with a grouchy Olivia just because you can’t help yourself.”

“That’s ok,” she grinned back, “I’ll just stay home.”

“Like hell you will,” Ginny snorted, pushing Hermione onto the bed and opening her closet. She immediately began to rifle through the clothes that Hermione had spent the past week ignoring, and tossed dress after dress onto the bed beside Hermione.

“Ginny,” she began carefully, toying with the hem of one of the ridiculously pretty dresses, “why do I have all these clothes?”

“What?” She replied, still distracted. 

“The clothes. They’re, well, they’re not very me,” she sighed, “where did they come from?”

Ginny turned round, another three dresses clutched in her arm, “Oh,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing and a frown twisting her lips, “I - I guess you started wearing them more when Daphne suggested it.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Seriously?”

“Hmmmm.” 

“We were that close?”

“Hermione,” Ginny started, setting the dresses down at one end of the bed and sitting herself down beside Hermione. She reached her hands across the space between them and clasped Hermione’s in hers. “You were best friends - no,” Ginny said abruptly when Hermione opened her mouth to object, “you were. You spent almost all your time together. They lived right across the street, her and Theo,” she elaborated. “You and Tom spent almost every evening with the pair of them. We, Pansy and me, used to joke that you’d all entered some weird polyamorous relationship.” Hermione felt her face flush red and turned her head away. Ginny laughed and rubbed her thumb over Hermione’s knuckles, “you hadn’t by the way, don’t worry.”

She snorted, “oh I’m not,” she laughed, “I doubt very much that Tom would share me with anyone.” She clasped a hand over her mouth in shock at her own forwardness. Ginny’s expression was a picture. 

“You keep forgetting,” her friend noted, smiling sadly at her. Hermione shrugged and stood, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to avoid the topic when a tiny voice called “mama.”

“I’ll go,” Ginny said, standing from the bed, “you jump in the shower. I expect Tom will be here soon anyway to drop Alexander off.” Hermione nodded.

“Their bags are in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Ginny smiled, “ok.”

* * *

 

Hermione had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped one towel around herself and used a smaller one to dry her hair, when she heard the front door open and Olivia squeal “dada” in delight. She crept into the hall, towel clutched tightly around her chest and peeked over the banister. Hidden in the shadows, she watched Ginny pass Tom a squirming, giggling Olivia whilst Alexander ran straight into the living room. Hermione heard him switch the telly on.

“Hiya pretty girl,” Tom cooed, smiling widely at their daughter. Hermione felt her own grin spread across her face. He looked so happy, like there was nothing he loved more than the toddler in his arms. Hermione recalled him looking at her like that once.

“Where’s Hermione?” He asked, turning his head to look in the living room before walking to towards the kitchen. Hermione watched Ginny’s eyebrows twitch in amusement before she very pointedly ignored him. 

“How was Alexander?”

“Alex is fine Ginevra. Where’s Hermione? Didn’t she have a hospital appointment this morning?” Hermione had known Tom a long time, she supposed Ginny had too, for neither woman bought for a second his conversational tone. 

“She’s upstairs.” Tom lifted his head towards them and Hermione stepped further back into the shadows, “getting ready.” Tom met Ginny’s eyes, “for a date.” His eyes narrowed, “with Draco,” she smirked.

Tom’s entire stance stiffened and Hermione watched him turn towards her,  _ their, _ friend. “Is that a good idea?”

Ginny laughed and Hermione felt goosebumps erupt over her skin when Tom spoke again. “I’m not joking. She doesn’t even know this- this Malfoy,” he spat. Even though he was turned away from her, Hermione knew his eyes were flashing with anger. That if it was her standing in front of him right now that the pair of them would clash, almost violently, against one another in a display of dominance, all teeth and tongues and bruised lips. Only, she wasn’t, Ginny was, and the red-head raised one eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh?” She asked, cocking her head to the side and lifting Lily, who had chosen this point to toddle over to her mother, into her arms, “and why is it exactly you think she’s going on this date Tom?”

“She’s not herself,” he argued.

“She might never be herself again,” she countered, her nostrils flaming with indignation on Hermione’s behalf, “and I’m not going to let you, or anyone else for that matter, stop her from living her life.”

“I’m no-”

“You are!” She snapped, shifting Lily on her hip. Her eyes softened after a few moments and she smiled at him, the same sad smile she’d given Hermione not half an hour ago, “I know it’s hard,” Tom scoffed, “but you know how she felt before this. You know this is what she would have wanted.”

Tom shook his head and knelt down. He hugged Olivia tightly before he set her down with a kiss to the top of her head. Hermione, from her crouched position at the top of the stairs, only just heard him mumble “I don’t think you know anything at all Ginny,” before he straightened and left without another word.

* * *

 

“What was that?” Hermione asked when Ginny came back up the stairs, Lily bouncing happily on her hip. She could hear Olivia and Alexander down the stairs.

“What was what?”

“Ginny.”

“Hermione.”

The two woman stared hard at one another, neither breaking their gaze when Lily leaned, arms outstretched towards Hermione and she stood from the bed and took her in her arms. Ginny sighed. “I don’t know what his problem is.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I don’t,” Ginny insisted, dropping onto the bed beside her and lifting her hand to play with Lily’s hair, “You and Draco have been dating for months.” Hermione hummed, while she continued, “he didn’t have a problem with it before.”

Hermione felt her stomach lurch and pointedly avoided looking at Ginny, choosing instead to focus on the tiny flower buttons of Lily’s cardigan, “oh,” she murmured, “I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Ginny said dismissively, “but honestly Hermione, he can’t expect you to put your entire life on hold until you get your memory back. That could take weeks.”

Hermione nodded, she didn’t want to think about it. She especially didn’t want to focus on what Ginny had said about the possibility of her memories never returning. “What do you think he meant when he said you didn’t know anything?”

Ginny scoffed, “I don’t know. You know Tom, ‘Mione, he hates not getting his own way.” Hermione hummed but didn’t say anything. There was something in the way he’d said it that implied they were missing something. That Tom had a part of the puzzle everyone else was missing.

“Should we finish getting you ready?” Ginny asked, moving her hand from Lily’s head to tug at Hermione’s wet curls, “It’ll take me awhile to do something with this mess,” she teased. Hermione rolled her eyes at Lily.

* * *

 

Ginny dressed her in a scandalously low cut black dress, with the flimsiest lace underwear set Hermione had worn all week.

“I have no intention of sleeping with him you know,” she said wryly, placing the glass of wine her friend had given her in an attempt to calm her nerves, on the coffee table at the sound of Harry pulling up. It was still full.  _ Perhaps I’ve gone off white wine in my old age _ she thought idly, the bitter taste lingering on her tongue.

“Why not? You have before and I’ve met Malfoy ‘Mione,” Ginny interrupted, smirking. “Now I know you’ve struggled with your phone this past week so I don’t even want you to take it with you tonight. Alex and Olivia will both be fine.”

“But what if-”

“No buts,” she declared, lifting Lily out of the playpen. Hermione mirrored her actions and lifted Olivia out too.

“Alexander, it’s time to go,” she called, following Ginny outside to where Harry was waiting, bags in hand, “I just don’t feel-”

“Hermione,” Ginny said abruptly, passing Lily to Harry wordlessly so he could strap her in. She took Olivia from Hermione’s arms, “you are going on this date. You are going to have a good time-”

“Bye mum.” Alexander interrupted, wrapping his arms around Hermione’s waist.

“Bye Alex.” She replied, ducking her head to press a kiss against the top of his.

“-You are not going to worry about your children, who, will be in the very capable hands of their aunt and uncl-” Ginny continued.

“Capable is not a word I would ever use to describe Harry,” Hermione drawled sarcastically.

“Hey. I’ll have you know,” Harry interjected, leaning round the car door to lift a restless Olivia from Ginny’s arms, “I’m a very capable uncle. Aren’t I, Olivia? Aren’t I?”

Hermione’s eyebrows lifted and she turned her head to Ginny, who was watching Harry struggle with Olivia’s car seat. “They’ll be with their very capable aunt,” she amended.

Hermione hummed. “Seriously though,” Ginny said, taking Hermione’s hands in her own, “they’ll be fine. Enjoy yourself. You really like Draco, Hermione. Give him a chance.”

Hermione nodded and stepped back. She waved and smiled as the car left her driveway, before she sighed and turned back towards the house.

* * *

 

“You look - you look beautiful Granger.”

Hermione ducked her head and smiled, “Thanks. You clean up nice too.”

Draco smirked and leaned across the car console. He cupped her jaw gently, nudged her nose against his and hummed appreciatively. 

Hermione’s hands came up to rest upon his shoulders and she tilted her head so that he could nuzzle her neck. She pushed him back when she felt one of his hands stroking her thigh. “We should go.”

Draco nodded and pulled back, a sheepish smile dancing on his lips, “Sorry, you’re right. As much as I want to take you back inside and divest you of this,” he tugged on her hem, “piece of fabric, we have reservations in twenty minutes.”

Hermione’s breath caught and she shifted in her seat in an effort to dispel the heat pooling between her thighs. Ginny was right. Draco was incredibly good looking and Hermione remembered all too well how he’d felt pressed up against her. But, she barely knew him. And she had meant it when she’d told her friend that she had no intention of sleeping with him tonight.

“I’m joking,” he laughed, nudging her gently when she said nothing. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

Draco smirked and shifted the car into reverse. He pulled out onto the road and flicked his eyes to meet hers, “didn’t you know?”

* * *

 

Hermione could only ever remember going on one other first date in her life. Tom had taken her to a tiny Thai restaurant around the corner from the house they were going to be sharing with some of their other friends for their first year at university.

_ “But you hate Thai food, “ she’d said and Tom had laughed and pulled her into the restaurant behind him. _

_ “I do,” he’d agreed, “But you love it.” _

_ Even though they’d been dating for close to a year, that was the first time that they’d been able to come somewhere without the fear of one of their friends crashing. It was the first time since they’d been together that Hermione thought about the very real possibility they would be together for the rest of their lives. _

“You do still like Italian food right?” Draco’s voice interrupted. Hermione’s head snapped up and she grinned at him. 

“I do,” she said, lifting the menu for the sake of propriety - she already knew what she was going to order.

“Some wine sir?” Their waiter interrupted. Draco flicked his gaze between the menu and Hermione. Her face must have betrayed how she felt because Draco answered for the pair of them. 

“I think water will be just fine.”

Draco lifted her hand and intertwined their fingers when their waiter had collected their orders. “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me. I know this past week hasn’t been easy for you.”

Hermione snorted delicately and rolled her eyes, “understatement of the century, but,” she paused, pulling her lip between her teeth. Draco had been there for her in a way Tom hadn’t been the past week. They’d texted almost every night, just going over the events of their respective days, and it had helped her get through the day knowing that she would be able to catch up with him at the end of it. That was reason enough for her to want to get to know him and give their relationship another chance, “I don’t want to talk about that. I want to get to know you. Us. What’s our relationship like? Do the kids like you? Do you like them? Harry really seems to like you - do you two know each other?”

Draco chuckled and flashed her a grin, all perfectly straight pearly white teeth. Her stomach clenched at the sight. “Well I guess we’re pretty serious. I’d asked you to move in with me on your birthday, before I went to France on business,” Hermione gulped at his words and he seemed to realise his mistake, “not that I think you should be beholden to a conversation you can’t even remember or anything,” he added hastily. Hermione smiled at his nervousness.

“Go on.”

“Well yeah and the kids, your kids are amazing Granger. I love them. Alexander is, he’s so smart, have you,” he winced, “have you noticed that? How easily he recalls facts and can engage in a conversation that’s way above his age? And Olivia -” he trailed off, “What?”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly open at the information he’d spewed off, “you love them.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed and he took a sip of the water that had arrived at their table, “well yeah,” he agreed, “they’re - of course I do.”

“Do you….”

“God no,” he laughed, “I was a consummate bachelor before you Granger.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’d had maybe,” he paused and brought his hand up to count on his fingers, “three serious girlfriends before you and well” he shrugged, and Hermione got the distinct impression this wasn’t a topic he was entirely comfortable discussing with her. _ Perhaps we’ve been over this before _ she mused, “I met Potter at University. We didn’t exactly get on,” he smirked. Hermione frowned. Why would Harry be pushing her towards continuing a relationship with him if they didn’t get on? 

“But now?”

“We found out we’re actually related.”

Hermione almost choked on her drink. “What? How? Thank you,” she added when their waiter presented her with the carbonara she’d ordered.

“His grandmother is my great aunt on my mother’s side. His godfather is my cousin.”

“Sirius?”

“You know him?”

Hermione blushed and twirled her spaghetti. “I might’ve had a crush on him when I was younger.”

Draco burst into laughter and Hermione scowled. “I’m sorry love,” he grinned at her, intertwining their fingers, “it’s just. It’s Sirius.”

“I know,” she moaned, “he’s actually awful.”

Draco kept laughing.

* * *

 

When they’d finished eating - both their dinner and an extravagant chocolate fudge sundae that they’d shared between them - Draco led Hermione, her small hand locked firmly in his larger one, towards a park they’d passed on their way to the restaurant. They sat down on a vacant bench.

“I won’t bite you know Granger,” Draco remarked drily. Hermione looked up to see his arm outstretched because she’d seated herself on the opposite side of the bench to him. “You don’t have to-”

“No, I yes, sorry,” she mumbled, sliding up so that she was beside him, “it’s just odd,” she sighed. Draco nodded but didn’t say anything else.

“I had a lovely time,” she murmured eventually when she’d taken a few moments and settled into his side. Draco had his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulder, his thumb rubbing in circular motions across her skin. Her head was settled on his chest and she could hear his heart beating against his chest.

“I really do love you, you know,” Hermione tipped her head back to look up at him, “no,” he interjected, “it’s ok, I know you don’t, I mean, I know you did but, I just wanted to tell you. I know this week has been hard for you. But I’m here Granger. I’m going to keep being here for as long as you need or want me to be,” he said, turning his gaze away to look out across the nearly empty park. There were several joggers making their way around the small lake and some rowdy teenagers hanging out on the swings a little further away too. The sky was clear of clouds, the sun setting and flushing it with a rainbow of pinks and oranges and-

“Thank you,” Hermione eventually choked out, “and,” she paused shifting from his arms to turn and look at him properly, “I’m sorry. This whole thing is just so unfair to you and-”   
“Me,” he snorted, “bloody hell woman, you’re the one who can’t remember the past decade. It’s unfair to you. No one else.”

“It is isn’t it,” she said, smiling wryly, “I mean one minute I think I’m in a committed and loving marriage and the next I’m not. It is most decisively unfair.”

“Yeah, I,” he cleared his throat, “I haven’t asked but, how’s Tom been about it all? I can’t imagine it’s been easy for him either.”

Hermione ducked her head. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes as she thought about Tom’s behaviour the past week. How one minute he’d act like the Tom she’d known and loved almost all her life and how the next he’d treat her as if she was nothing more than a stranger. Tonight, when she’d heard him arguing with Ginny, was the most he’d acted like himself in her opinion. And even then, she knew there was something he was hiding and she had no idea how to go about finding out what it was. 

“Do you, do you know him? Tom I mean.”

Draco shrugged. “He’s my main competitor. Both of us are heirs to highly successful businesses our fathers have spent their whole lives building just to pass them to us when the time is right. I’ve heard, all my life how inferior ‘Riddle Enterprises’ is to ‘Malfoy Incorporated’. I first met him when I was fourteen, and I’ve seen him at least once a year since he took over for his father, at the convention for businesses -”

“Where we met,” Hermione interjected, her eyebrows furrowing as she took in all this new information, “I’m surprised he did that. He never wanted to.”

“What?” Malfoy asked, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Tom. He never wanted to take over the business. I’m - I’m surprised he did.” Draco shrugged and Hermione cleared her throat, “sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s fine. Anyway that’s how I know him, well knew him.”

“And now you’re dating his wife.”

“I-,” he broke off, cupped her face in his hands and tilted it so that he could look her in the eye, “that’s not why-”   
“Not why you’re dating me?”

“Yes, No. I mean. I know some people had plenty to say at the time but, we moved past it.”

Hermione hummed. She had no doubt that some people would have had plenty to say when they found out that Draco had begun dating her - they’d had plenty to say when she’d married Tom. They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Eventually Hermione leaned back into him and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“He’s been fine. I suppose. Apparently our divorce proceedings haven’t been going so well,” she said, idly twirling a thread from his otherwise immaculate shirt, between her fingers. “That’s actually something I wanted to speak-”

“You’ve put them on hold,” Draco said and Hermione jolted. She pulled back from him, a dozen retorts on the tip of her tongue but he simply chuckled. “It’s fine Granger. I understand,” he said and Hermione looked up at him, one eyebrow lifted in wonderment at his words, “well I don’t understand per se, but I know why you did it. You can’t go through with it without all the facts and until you get your memory back you won’t have them.”

“I - that’s -,” she narrowed her eyes up at him, though she could feel a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, “Yes,” she settled on. Draco nodded.

“I would expect nothing less Granger.”


	8. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi - it's tomione day and therefore we have a very tomione chapter - massive love to riverwriter as always for EVERYTHING <3 ok bye

Hermione stumbled over the pair of heels she’d thrown with reckless abandon at her arse the previous night, as she clutched the silky robe that passed for her dressing gown, and made her way to the front door. Someone had been knocking for the past five minutes and she’d had to drag herself from both the heat of her bed  _ and _ the incredibly nice dream she’d been having about Draco. She was sure it was a dream, because if it was truly a memory and he really had at some point eaten ice cream from her navel on the kitchen table, she doubted she’d ever be able to sit down at it ever again.

“I’m coming,” she muttered, blushing at the innuendo in her words even though she was alone. Draco had been nothing but gallant when he’d dropped her off the previous night and it was the first night that she’d spent alone in the house since the accident. She yanked at the chains on the door and turned the lock mechanism. She expected to find the postman with yet another delivery for her since she’d had numerous ones show up throughout the week. Her lips parted in shock and she felt a smile curve up over her cheeks when she saw Tom though. He had his back to her, clearly he’d thought she wasn’t home. That she had gone home with Draco. She shut down that thought before it grew into something more and stepped out onto the porch.

“Tom,” she called, stopping herself from going any further. She was barefoot and had no intention of stepping onto the gravel. Tom stiffened and turned his head back to look at her. She saw him visibly relax when he caught sight of her before he turned and began to walk back towards the house.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” he said carefully, tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling nervously in front of her. Hermione arched an eyebrow at his unsaid words,  _ “I didn’t know if you’d gone home with Malfoy.” _

“Where else would I be?” She asked, raising her chin defiantly, daring him to comment on her date to her face like he’d done so with Ginny yesterday. He lifted his head and flashed her a grin that made her stomach flip-flop. No matter how much she might have enjoyed Draco and his company last night, there was a reason she had married the man in front of her. When he said nothing Hermione sighed and turned on her heel. “Come on then,” she said, “I have something I want to talk about with you anyway.”

“Oh,” he said, following quickly and closing the door behind him. “I have something to talk about with you too.”

“If it’s about Alexander's upcoming swimming  competition I already know. Harry wrote it down over there,” she nodded towards the fridge where the event was written in bold capital letters  _ and _ circled. She hadn’t wanted to forget, and she was incredibly excited about seeing her son take part. “So you don’t need to remind me,” she said, turning the tap off and setting the kettle down to boil. Tom chuckled and Hermione flashed him a grin. He’d seated himself at the head of the table, a seat Hermione assumed he always sat in when they lived together, and he looked perfectly at home. The image made Hermione frown and she turned towards the fridge in an effort not to cry, even though she could already feel the tears burning at the corner of her eyes. It wasn’t the first time in the past week that she’d become emotional over nothing. Olivia had smiled and she’d been a blubbering mess. Alexander had protested furiously that NO, he did not like sweetcorn and he wouldn’t eat it, and she’d had to escape to the bathroom to cry. She knew that adjusting to this new life was taking its toll on her. So many things had changed and she was all alone in dealing with them, no matter how many times Harry or Ginny or Pansy or Tom visited. It was she that got up with them in the middle of the night when they cried and soothed them back to sleep. 

“Where’d you go?” Tom asked. 

Hermione shrugged and opened the fridge. “Nowhere important. What did you want to talk to me about?”

She turned and leaned against the counter while she waited for the kettle to boil. The bubbling of the water was the only sound in the kitchen. Tom opened his mouth, then closed it again before he nodded, to himself mostly, Hermione thought and he shifted in his seat. 

“Well, you said you had something to talk to me about,” he shrugged, “you go first.” Hermione rolled her eyes and busied herself making them both a cup of coffee before she joined him at the table. She set his mug in front of him and then curled up in the seat beside his, folding her knees beneath her and wrapping both hands around the cup she clutched to her chest. She flicked her eyes to his face and followed his eyes to her cleavage. Her nightgown was open and she knew her areola were visible through the sheer material of her nighty. She felt her nipples harden under his gaze and cleared her throat gently. Tom’s eyes snapped to hers and she was barely able to suppress a smirk at the look on his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, reaching for his own cup and taking a sip. Hermione bit her tongue to stop the automatic “it’s ok,” from slipping past her lips. “So,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair and pointedly keeping his eyes on her face, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

Hermione bit her lip and took a sip of her own coffee, wincing at the taste. She’d forgotten how much she actually hated the beverage but she’d automatically made herself one along with Tom’s, a subconscious reflex she was sure. She’d told Draco last night about her plans to put their divorce proceedings on hold. She’d even managed to find her divorce attorney’s number tucked into her purse and let him know too. The only person with whom she hadn’t had any sort of conversation about it was the only person who needed to know. But, she was nervous about how he’d take it. They had obviously been getting divorced for a reason and she didn’t know if he’d be sympathetic to her request. She set her cup down on the table and tugged at her fingers, cracking her knuckles in the process. Tom winced and she smirked at the memory of how much he hated her doing that before she took a deep breath.

“It’s about our divorce. I-”

“Hello,” Ginny called, opening the front door, “anyone home?” 

Hermione snapped her head to look in the direction of the hall, her mouth falling open in surprise before she looked back at Tom. His face was a mask of impassiveness and Hermione regretted the fact that he had no idea what she’d intended to say. “Tom I-”

“In here,” he called back, ignoring her and standing from the table just as Alexander swooped into the room and ran into his waiting arms. “Hello champ,” he murmured, hugging their son tightly before leaning back on his haunches to look at him. “Did you have a good time with your cousins.”

“Yeah it was awesome. Uncle Harry let me and James stay up and watch horror films.” Hermione balked and flicked her eyes to Tom who was smirking before she turned her head to glare at Ginny, who was bouncing Olivia on her hip.

“Alex,” she hissed, though Hermione could tell it was in jest, “that was supposed to be a secret.” She handed Olivia to Hermione and collapsed into the chair beside her, swiping Hermione’s abandoned cup and swigging it down like it was water.

“Hello baby,” Hermione murmured to her daughter, smiling at her. Alexander appeared at her side. 

“Hi Mum,” he said, leaning up to wrap his arms around her neck and planting a kiss on her cheek, “missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Hermione smiled, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders and pulling her against him. She pressed a kiss into his hair. “Did you have a good time?” She asked. Alexander nodded and pulled back.

“Go get ready,” Tom said and Hermione looked up, startled to find him beside her now too. He leaned down and grasped Olivia, her chubby arms flailing about excitedly.  “Hello sweetie,” he said lifting her completely from Hermione and moving towards the kitchen door, “were you good?” he asked as he left Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen. She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Hermione turned to Ginny, who was eyeing her attire and smirking. Hermione scowled and pulled her dressing gown shut. “Stop it.”

Ginny’s smirk widened and she laughed. “What? I can’t look at you now?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Not like that you can’t.”

“Is he here?”

Hermione spluttered indignantly. “Ginny. You just walked into my kitchen with my two children and saw me having a conversation with my husband. What on earth would give you the impression that I had another man tucked away as well.”

Ginny’s eyes widened at her words. “So you’ve been sitting like that with Tom and only Tom?” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hermione. Your tits were practically flashing before you covered up.”

“Yeah. So?”

It was Ginny’s turn to splutter indignantly. “You have a boyfriend.”

“I’m really confused as to where this conversation is going,” Hermione sighed, standing from the table and grabbing the now empty mugs and moved towards the sink.

“So,” Ginny drawled sarcastically, “if you happened to wander into Draco’s apartment and found him in conversation with another woman as scantily dressed as you are now you wouldn’t care?”

“That’s not the same.”

“No?”

“No. For a start I would never just wander into someone’s house the way you just did,” she bit out harshly, ignoring the way Ginny’s eyes hardened,” and secondly Tom is my husband.”

“Who you’re divorcing!” Ginny snapped.

“No I’m not!” Hermione snapped back, turning from the sink to face her friend only to find Tom, Olivia and Alexander standing in the doorway watching them.

”What?” Tom asked. Ginny’s head snapped in their direction and she stood quickly from her chair. 

“I’m leaving,” she said, glaring at Hermione all the while.

Hermione swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ginny,” she started. But the redhead had already swept out of the kitchen and the front door had slammed. Hermione gulped and met Tom’s eye.

“Hermione. What-”

“Tom. I-”

“Come on dad.” Alexander interrupted and both of them turned their heads to look at Alex who was tugging at Tom’s jumper, “you said we would go to the park.” Hermione looked at the clock on the wall for the first time that day and noticed that it was almost lunchtime.

“I know son but-”

“You should go.” Hermione sighed, crossing the room to plant a kiss on Olivia’s cheek and then Alexander’s. “Clearly you have plans with the two of them.”

“Yes but - Alexander would you hold on for a second please,” Tom said. Hermione could tell he was exasperated with the constant tugging on his hem and knelt down to level her son with a smile.

“It’s ok sweetie. Dad’s going to take you now. He and I will just have our little chat later.”

She flicked her gaze up to Tom and smiled when he nodded, even though his jaw was clenched and she knew it was taking great effort on his part to Tell Alexander they wouldn’t be going anywhere until they’d had their conversation. She turned her attention back towards her son. “You have a good time.”

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” He asked and Hermione laughed, standing back up. 

“We’ll see.”

“Yessss,” he shouted, thumping the air above him and skating out of the kitchen towards the front door.

“We’ll continue this later then?” Tom asked. Hermione smiled gently at him and nodded.

“You have something you wanted to talk to me about too remember?”

Tom nodded and smirked and Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach at the way he looked at her. God! What was going on? Tom’s mood swings were more mercurial than her own. All week she’d been at his mercy and he didn’t even have a head injury to blame it on.

“I remember.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. He was still smirking and looked happy. “Have a nice day.”

Tom shifted Olivia on his hip and nodded. “We will. What are you going to do?”

Hermione shrugged. “I’ll find something I’m sure.”   


* * *

 

She found a basket of laundry first. Then she found all of Olivia’s newborn sized clothes and spent an hour crying over them in bed, clutching them to her chest and inhaling that new baby smell like it was a lifeline. When she managed to drag herself from the melancholy she found her wedding album and spent another hour crying over that. Alexander’s first year was next. And by the time she closed that album she had to drag herself away from the living room in fear of what else she’d discover. Plusshe was thirsty from crying so much and drank almost a litre of water as she waited for the dishwasher to finish its cycle so she could empty it. When she’d calmed down, and thankfully stopped crying, she collapsed onto the couch and listened to the silence.

It was odd in a way that it hadn’t been all week. Because she wasn’t expecting to hear a shout of “Mum” or for Olivia to start crying or for Alex to skid into the room and ask her where his bag was. She had gotten used to their presence so quickly. She turned on her side and pointedly avoided looking at the corner where all the photo albums were. Which is how she somehow managed to catch sight of a ball of fluff that was hidden in the opposite corner. She hauled herself up from the couch and approached it, frowning all the while at the odd shape and colour. It was only when she pulled it from the basket and something fell to the floor that she realised what it was.

“Oh dear lord,” she murmured aloud. “Knitting. I knit now?”

What on earth? -She could barely bring herself to finish the thought, horrified as she was at what she’d found. Knitting? Who was she? Had her mother put her up to this? God she really didn’t know herself at all. She knelt down and picked the pair of needles up from the ground and fell back into the armchair behind her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looped the blue wool round the needle and leant back in the chair.

* * *

“You’re knitting?”

Hermione looked up to find Tom standing in the doorway watching her, an amused smirk firmly planted across his lips. She hadn’t even heard him come in. Though, now she could hear the unmistakable sound of her kids in the other room and wondered how she could possibly have missed them. They were incredibly loud.

“Apparently it’s something I do now.”

Tom’s eyebrow raised slowly and Hermione scowled at him. “It’s not my fault.”

He laughed, “I know but it is funny. Do you even know how to do it or?”

Hermione shrugged. “I think it’s mostly muscle memory.”

Tom nodded and stepped further into the room. Hermione set her knitting aside and stared up at him, taking his hand when he offered it to her. “I brought us a takeaway.” She nodded. “And when we put the kids to bed in an hour I really want us to sit down and talk abou-”

“I meant what I said,” She interrupted, gripping his hand, “I need some tim-”

“It's ok.” 

“Mummmmmmmm,” Alexander called from the kitchen.

“Later.”

“Later,” she agreed.

* * *

She waited impatiently on the sofa as Tom put Alexander and Olivia to bed. She twirled the glass of wine between her fingers but didn’t drink any of it. She wanted to. God how she wanted to but she was weary of the conversation they were about to have and didn’t need alcohol affecting her. Especially since she’d barely managed to eat any of the chinese food Tom had brought home with him. She eventually sat the wine glass on the coffee table and wiped her sweaty palms on the sofa beneath her.

“You’re nervous.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced at him as he sat on the chair opposite her.

“A bit. I- How much of what I said to Gnny did you hear?”

“All of it.”

She nodded and looked at the picture of Alexander and Olivia between them. “And how do you-”

“I agree with you. I think we should put it on hold.”

“Really?” She was surprised at his answer. She’d planned to convince him of why she needed them to stop right now. Tom nodded and moved around the table to sit beside her, though he didn’t touch her and Hermione fought the urge to curl against him.

“Yes Hermione. Really.” He took her hand in his and ran his thumb in circles across the skin of her wrist. “It actually….” he trailed off and looked away before meeting her eye again, “it actually makes a lot of sense considering what I’m about to say.”

Hermione felt her heart quicken. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a grin curving over his lips, “I’m your husband.” She nodded. “I never wanted us to seperate. No, don’t pull away, let me,” he broke off and sighed again. “I know you don’t remember but this wasn’t my choice. I never wanted this to happen. None of it Hermione.” She nodded and pleaded with her eyes for him to go on because her heart was in her throat and she was afraid of what she might say if she opened her mouth. “And I know I’ve been an absolute prick the past week,” a snort escaped her and he smirked, “and I don’t deserve to ask this of you, especially knowing that you’re with Malfoy and that you’re trying to make things work between the two of you, but I can’t help it Hermione. I want to be the one to take you out and remind you exactly why we were together in the first place. I don’t care if that makes me a selfish arsehole.”

Hermione blinked at him. It was all she could do as his words sunk in. God! Draco. She’d - God, she’d completely forgotten about him. All day, since the moment Ginny had stormed out, she’d been preoccupied with Tom and the kids and the dozens of memories she’d been assaulted by as she’d flitted from one room of the house to another. Draco hadn’t entered her mind once. She hadn’t even looked at her phone. And didn’t that tell her something? Didn’t that alone tell her that there was still something between her and Tom when  **he** was the one that had dominated her thoughts all day, not her boyfriend.

“Yes.”

Tom chuckled and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “I don’t expect you to stop seeing Malfoy.”

“He said he loves me.” She watched Tom swallow as he nodded. 

“I know. I know that you love him too.”

“Not as mu-”

“Don’t. It’s ok. You don’t remember Hermione and I’m not going to tell you what to do. In fact, I think you need to keep seeing him. I’m not the same person I was.”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest and the urge to crawl into his lap overwhelming, “I know. And I know that there’s lots of things we need to figure out Tom but God-”

“I’m your husband,” he finished for her. “I’m your husband and I love you and I think that you deserve to decide for yourself, in case, just in case,” he quickly reassured her, “your memories don’t come back. You deserve to know whether you love this version of me as much as the old one. If you do, well...” he flashed her a grin and she tightened her grip on his hand, “and if you don’t,” he shrugged, “I’ll always be in your life.”

Hermione exhaled harshly and then took a deep breath. Her head hurt from everything he’d just unloaded on her but when she felt him begin to pull his hand away she tugged him back until she was lying flat on her back and he was hovering over her.

“Hi,” she whispered, giddy at the thought of  **finally** being able to kiss him. Tom smirked down at her but Hermione could see the relief in his eyes. He gently skimmed her jaw with his finger, going over the contours of her face as though he was trying to imprint them to memory. 

“Hi,” he whispered back, trailing one hand down her neck, across her collarbone and down her sides. His fingertips skimmed the curve of her breast and she arched up into him, whimpering when he used his free hand to pin her hands above her head. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured lowly, his breath tickling her ear even as he nipped it between his teeth. Hermione bit her bottom lip until she could taste blood but then Tom was kissing her and she couldn’t taste anything but  **him** .


	9. No. I'm not okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI - drops chapter really quickly, shouts thanks to Riverwriter for everything, runs - BYE

Tom was kissing her. He was gripping her waist and rubbing rhythmic circles against the skin of her hips with his thumbs and she was on fire, not literally of course, but her skin was hot and her nipples were hard and she was aching for him to touch her, to slip his hand beneath the flimsy lace between her legs and -

“Stop,” she gasped out when she felt him do so. Reality crashing down on her. She pushed him back and swallowed thickly at the way his eyes hardened and his nostrils flared. “We can’t. I can’t. Drac-”   
“Is right here.”

Hermione snapped her head round to see her boyfriend leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom and shivered at the way his eyes drifted over her. He took a step forward and she took a step back. “I’m right here Hermione.”

“What- What’s going on?” She asked, wiping her hands along her thigh, “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t realise that as she’d been backing away from Draco she’d been moving towards Tom, not until he gripped her hips with his hands and ground his erection against her bum. “You know why he’s here Hermione,” he breathed against her ear, licking the shell of it with the tip of his tongue.

She shook her head. “We can’t,” she rasped out.

“Why not?” Draco asked, having finally reached them. He yanked the top of her vest down and bent his head down to pull a nipple between his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as he sucked and tugged at it with his teeth. He pulled back with a pop and instantly replaced his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t you want to?”

“I - What? Tom, Gods, please! You have to-”

“Have to what Hermione?” He asked, his breath hot against her neck as he moved his mouth along it. His fingers  _ had _ slipped into her underwear now and he was sliding them through her folds, teasing her mercilessly. “I thought you didn’t want to?”

_ Knock knock knock _

“I didn’t say that,” she grit out, dropping her head back against his chest and spreading her legs.

_ Knock knock knock _

“Going to make you feel so good baby,” Draco murmured around a nipple, “going to make you come so hard over both our cocks.”

_ Knock knock knock _

“Go away!” She groaned, rocking her hips against Tom’s hand as he shallowly thrust two fingers into her cunt, his thumb lazily brushing against her clit. “Please Tom,” she sobbed, grabbing at Draco’s head and holding him against her bare chest, “Draco please.” He bit down on her nip-

_ Knock knock knock _

Her eyes snapped open. “Fuck,” she groaned, rolling over in the empty bed, pressing her thighs together. She wanted nothing more than to slip her hand between them and come to the thought of what both Tom and Draco had been doing to her in her dream. But the knocking at the front door was still happening and-

She pulled herself from the comfort of her bed and stumbled into the hallway. Alexander’s door was still closed and Olivia wasn’t making any audible noise so Hermione made her way down the stairs, clutching the banister as she did. Her head was pounding and her stomach was rolling. She kept her eyes on her feet so she didn’t trip and plummet to the bottom of the stairs. She almost did anyway when a pair of hands gripped her waist. 

“Hey,” Tom asked and Hermione looked up to see him giving her that lopsided grin of his that made her feel like pooling into goo, “you ok?”

Hermione gaped up at him. She’d forgotten that last night, after they’d snogged heavily like a pair of teenagers on the couch in the living room for over an hour, Tom had stayed over.

 

_ “Bed,” Tom murmured against her lips, pulling himself up and away from her. He held out a hand to help her. Hermione moaned and threw her head back against the sofa before she let him drag her up. _

_ “I’m not tired,” she mumbled and she knew she sounded exactly like Alexander in that moment. Tom chuckled and pulled her into his arms. Hermione rested her arms around his neck and looked up at him. He trailed his thumb over her lips, bruised from their kissing. “Go.” _

_ “Come with me.” _

_ She smirked when he threw his head back and groaned. “No,” he said and she pouted, “but. I’ll stay here on the couch. We can take the kids out for breakfast in the morning before I take them to see my mother.” _

 

“You stayed,” she murmured, sliding her hands up his bare chest, brushing his nipples with the pads of her thumbs and wrapping her hands around his neck. Tom smirked down at her and she bit her lip. God that dream. “Who was at the door?” She asked in an effort to distract herself.

“No one important,” he replied, bending his head down to slant his lips across hers. Hermione leaned into him and Tom lifted her from the bottom step and into his arms. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and she could feel his erection throbbing against her cunt and she rolled her hips in an effort to create some friction.

She startled, pulling her head back from his when she heard glass smash and she turned her head towards the sound to see Draco standing there, his hands clenched into fists and his nostrils flaring - the remains of a cup scattered at his feet.

“What. The. Fuck.” He grit out.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she let go of Tom, slipping out of his grasp and taking a tentative step towards her boyfriend. God! What a disaster.

“Draco,” she began carefully, edging her way around the sharp shards of ceramic that were scattered on the floor between them, “Draco I can explain.”

“Really,” he sneered, “you can explain why you were practically dry humping your shirtless ex in nothing but that,” he waved his hand in her direction and she winced, Ginny’s words from the day before ringing in her ears, “first thing in the morning,” he scoffed. Hermione threw a glare over her shoulder in Tom’s direction and narrowed her eyes when he only smirked at her.

“Mummmmmmm! Mum, Olivia’s crying.” A voice, Alexander, called from up the stairs and Hermione jolted. This was not the time for her and Draco to have this, obviously serious, conversation. They needed to but -

She bit her lip and looked back at Tom again who sighed.

“I’ll go.”

“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, turning her attention back to Draco and taking a deep breath. “Draco I-”   
“I have to go.”

“No wait please I- fuck,” she broke off as she took a step forward and suddenly felt a sharp pain in her foot, she fell forward as she automatically went to clutch the injured appendage. Draco caught her and lifted her into his arms.

“You’re ok Granger. I’ve got you.”

Hermione looked up at him and smiled. God he was so handsome and generous and caring. He'd just caught her snogging someone other than him and now he was acting like a knight in shining armor. Even if it was only a little cut. He placed her on the edge of the kitchen table and moved across the kitchen opening one drawer then another before he found what he was looking for. “Ah ha,” he grinned when he pulled out a first aid kit. He made his way back towards her and pulled a chair between her legs. He cupped her foot gently in his hand and rubbed his thumb over her instep as he examined the cut. “It’s not too deep,” he murmured, rummaging in the box beside him for something to clean it with. “I think a plaster will do.”

Hermione nodded. “Draco I-”

He sucked in a harsh breath and Hermione watched his shoulders tense and felt his grip on her foot tighten. “Hermione don-”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

Draco’s nostrils flared. “I should hope not,” he grit out, carefully wiping her foot clean of blood with an antiseptic wipe.

“But I- We’ve decided to try,” she cleared her throat and looked at the clock hanging on the wall, “to try again.”

“Draco.” She nudged when he said nothing. “Say something.”

He scoffed. “Like what? I’m not going to beg Hermione.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Well what do you expect me to say?” He snapped, pushing his chair back and standing. “That I’m happy for you. That I’ll happily stand aside and let you go? Because I won’t,” he growled and Hermione felt her core pulse and the arousal that had been building up inside of her since before she even woke up, pool in the bottom of her stomach. God he was so, so-

“Draco,” she rasped out, slipping down off the table and approaching him, mindful of her foot. “Draco that's not what I want.” He continued to glare at her but he didn’t stop her when she stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands continued to hang tightly by his sides and she wanted him to put them on her. “I might never get my memory back, no,” she said firmly when he opened his mouth to retort, “I might not. But we had something. We have something,” she clarified, imploring him with her eyes to listen to her, to give her a chance. “And I have to make sure. Not just for me, but for Alex and Olivia too, that I make the right choice.” Draco’s eyes seemed to soften at the mention of her children but then, just as quickly, they hardened again and his grip on her hips tightened. He stepped forwards, moving Hermione with him until she was pressed up against the edge of the table. Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from moaning at the way he was handling her. 

“Are you going to fuck him?” He leered down at her and Hermione’s eyes narrowed up at him. He was undeterred. “Are you going to be a good slutty wife and let him bend you over and slide his cock into your cunt and come all over it screaming his name as he wraps one hand in your hair and arches your back?” He asked roughly, tangling one of his own hands in her mess of curls and tilting her head up towards him. He leaned forward and licked a thick stripe of his tongue along her neck, biting down on the skin just beneath her ear. Hermione shuddered beneath him and brought her hands to his shoulders to shove him away. 

“I have no intention of fucking either of you any time soon,” she said snidely. Draco laughed and Hermione flinched at how callous it sounded.

“Are you sure? You looked liked you were quite eager for it not ten minutes ago,” he drawled, narrowing his own eyes, “rolling your hips, your cunt, against his crotch like you wanted nothing more than for him to slip that flimsy bit of lace between your legs to the side and thrust home inside of you. I know how it feels. You did it to me just one week ago.”

Hermione stared at him in shock. God! She really was a wanton bitch wasn’t she? Because despite how angry she felt she also felt incredibly horny. Olivia’s cry jolted her. She turned away from him and took a deep breath. She could feel tears burning at the corner of her eyes.  _ He’s just angry _ she repeated to herself. _ He doesn't mean it. He’s just lashing out.  _ She could hear him taking deep breaths of his own and when he came up behind her and turned her into his arms she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing and sobbed into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair, “God, Granger I’m so sorry I don’t, I don’t know what came over me, I just-”

“I know.”

“I love you.” He said and Hermione’s eyes clenched, tears flowing still and her heart fluttered at his declaration. “I love you so I will try. I will try and be patient and -”   
“That’s all I need,” she agreed, nodding her head and peeking up at him. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and smiled wryly, “I know it won’t be easy.” He snorted, continuing to smooth his hands over her hair, “but I really want to try.”

Draco sighed and lifted one hand to cup her jaw. Hermione leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “Still. I’m sorry.”

Hermione snorted, “me too,” she chuckled softly, toying with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have talked to you first. Told you how I fee-”

He sighed. “Don’t. Just. I was worried about you.” 

Hermione winced and ducked her head. “I kind of went a bit m.i.a yesterday, huh?”

“Just a bit Granger,” Draco chuckled, lifting her into his arms and walking the short distance to the chair he’d abandoned a few minutes ago. He settled her into the chair and began to clear up the shattered cup. She could hear Alexander laughing, his footsteps heavy on the floor above their head as he ran from room to room. “When can I see you again?” Draco asked after a few minutes, lifting her from the seat and settling her again, this time in his lap.

Hermione lifted her head from his chest and met his eye. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck and she brought them round to cup his jaw between her hands. She glanced at the fridge and squinted at the myriad of activities the week was already booked up with on the calendar. “Wednesday?” She asked, tilting her head back to his. Draco nodded and nudged his nose against hers. 

“I’ll text you,” he murmured against her lips.

“Good,” she smirked against his. “I’d be awfully bored if you didn’t.” Draco rolled his eyes and kissed her, his lips slanting over hers easily, his teeth tugging gently on her bottom lip. “I should go,” he panted after a few minutes, his erection prodding Hermione’s thigh, “It will just be confusing for the kids if they see me here too.” Hermione nodded and clambered out of his lap, slipping her fingers through his as they walked to the front door. Draco opened the door and Hermione tugged him back.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Draco nodded and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you Granger,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth and placing another kiss against the palm of it before he winked and made his way to his car. Hermione watched him, leaning against the edge of the door as he pulled out before she closed it and leaned against it. She brought her fingers to her lips and smiled. Maybe everything would be ok?

“Mum,” Alexander called, stomping down the stairs, “tell Dad I don’t want to wear this shirt.”

Tom followed him, Olivia babbling happily in his arms and Hermione smiled at her children before she glared at her smirking husband.

“What?” He asked smugly when she approached him. Hermione ignored him.

“Hi baby,” she said cheerfully, lifting Olivia from his arms and making her way into the kitchen. She deposited Olivia into her highchair and made her way around to Alexander who was attempting to reach the cereal down on his own. “What do you wan-”

“Coco pops please mum,” he replied, not tearing his eyes away the yellow box. She chuckled and lifted it down for him. He already had a bowl in hand and skipped to the table eagerly. She moved to the fridge, removed the milk and grabbed some yogurt for Olivia at the same time. She deposited them gently on the table and moved towards the hall. “I’m going to get ready.” She called behind her, not meeting Tom’s amused look.

She stepped into the shower, wincing when the water met the cut on her foot - Draco had never got round to putting a plaster on the cut - and leaned back against the tiled wall. She wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and forget about the shit-storm of a morning she’d just had, but the sound of both Olivia and Alexander’s laughter lilting up the stairs reminded her that she had to be responsible. And climbing back into bed and shutting out the world for a few days was definitely not responsible. She washed her hair first, taking care to remove any knots she found with her fingers before she allowed her hands to slide over herself. She avoided lingering in the space between her legs. No matter how much she wanted to relieve the tension between them, having an orgasm with her husband and children down the stairs probably wasn’t the best idea. When she was sud free she stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and her hair and made her way back into the bedroom. She towel dried her hair before she moved to stand in front of her wardrobe. She startled, the towel dropping from her body when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see Tom watching her, his eyes following the droplets of water that were dripping down the bare skin of her back. She scrambled for the towel to cover herself back up, inadvertently bending over in the process and eliciting a groan from Tom.

“God woman,” he admonished, “are you trying to kill me?”

“You’re the one who came in here and scared me half to death,” she mumbled, wrapping the towel back around her and moving to sit on the bed. When Tom didn’t move, only continued to watch her with glazed over eyes, she huffed.

“What is it?”

“You’re angry with me.”

It wasn’t a question and Hermione’s mouth fell open at the audacity. He had lied to her when she’d asked who was at the door. He had deliberately put her in a position where she’d have to confront Draco about their changed relationship.

“Clearly.”

Tom hummed and crossed the small space between them to kneel at her feet. He grasped her calves in his hands and gripped them tightly before ducking his head and placing a chaste kiss to the inside of her left knee. Hermione shivered.

“Stop,” she murmured, gripping the bedspread in her hands.

“Why?” He asked, moving to her other leg.

“Tom.”

“Hermione.”

“God, you are so, so….”

“Charming. Wonderful. Handsome,” he smirked up at her.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Infuriating. Why did you do that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking. Hermione threw her head back in frustration. 

“What did he say?” He asked. 

The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them. “He asked me if I was going to fuck you.” She felt Tom’s fingers dig into the flesh of her leg and she quickly sat up to pull him onto the bed beside her. His eyes were hard when she met them. “He was upset.”

Tom made a non-committal sound at the back of his throat and Hermione got the impression he didn’t care much about whether Draco was upset or not. “It’s fine,” she added, “I- he had every right to be upset,” she murmured, taking Tom’s hand in hers. “Are the kids going to be ok down stairs by themselves?”

Tom lifted his gaze from their joined hands but he continued to rub his thumb along the space she knew her engagement and wedding rings had once sat. “They’ll be fine.” Hermione nodded and swallowed nervously when Tom brought their hands to rest against the bare expanse of skin above where the towel rested. Her breath quickened as Tom trailed their fingers over the tops of her breasts. 

“Tom,” she breathed shakily.

“What did you tell Malfoy?” He interrupted, not taking her eyes from their hands.

“I told him I had no intention of fucking either of you.” She flicked her eyes to his, then his mouth, “not anytime soon anyway.”

Tom hummed and brought their hands to rest lightly on her sternum. His thumb rested delicately on the skin above the towel and Hermione felt goosebumps erupt along her body.

“Tom…”

“I agree with your decision,” he murmured, “though,” he flashed her a grin and she pressed her thighs together, “it seems to give me an advantage.”

“How so?” She stuttered out, shuffling away from him and leaning up on her elbows to watch him crawl towards her. Her legs, still partially covered by the towel, fell open and Tom rested easily in the cradle they provided as he leant forward.

“Well,” he breathed against her ear, his hand gripping her waist possessively, “you don’t remember what it felt like with him,” she could feel him smirking against her neck, “but, I doubt you could ever forget what it feels like with me,” he added, nipping her clavicle with his teeth.

“You bastard,” she grit out. Tom laughed.

“Daddddddd,” Alexander called and she jerked. Tom pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw and pulled back. 

“Come on. You finish getting dressed and I’ll go make sure they’re ready to go.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t know what to wear.”

Tom laughed. “Whatever you want. I’m going to give Pansy a call, by the way. Ask her to babysit for us tonight.” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Tonight? Why?”

Tom stopped at the door and smirked. “I’m taking my wife out on a date.”

 


	10. Home Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not exist without Riverwriter - not an exaggeration. Also I don't know how I went 3 months without updating - won't happen again. Anyway - Happy Birthday Hermione.

It was four in the afternoon by the time Tom dropped her off at the house.

“We’ll be about an hour, maybe two,” he said when they pulled into the driveway. Alex was quietly reading in the back whilst Olivia had passed out, filled up on chicken and mashed potatoes - a firm favourite of hers. A fact that Tom had drawled sarcastically when she’d grabbed for the spoon greedily not an hour before.

Hermione nodded, smiled and leaned across the console between them at the same time Tom did. He grasped her chin in his hands and nudged his nose along the length of her jaw, breathing her in and leaving a chaste kiss just beneath her ear. Hermione shivered and bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut and her hands fisting in Tom’s shirt.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her neck, “go,” he added, pulling back from her and taking her hands in his, “I’ll see you later.” 

Hermione smirked at how dishevelled he looked, her eyes flicking towards his crotch to see just how disheveled he felt.

“What time is Pansy coming over?” She asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“About seven.”

Hermione nodded. “Be good Alex,” she said quietly, turning her head to level her son with a serious look. He only grunted in response, not bothering to look up from his book, he was so engrossed in it, before she stepped out of the car and closed the door gently so as not to disturb Olivia. Tom rolled the window down and watched her fumble with the lock on the front door.

“Wear the black dress,” he said and Hermione turned, smirking.

“Why?”

Tom rolled his eyes and Hermione lifted her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. Tom chuckled. “Just wear it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bye Tom.”

She stepped into the house and leaned against the door, suddenly exhausted. Tom had taken them to a nice family restaurant for lunch but Hermione hadn’t ventured out with the kids further than the park or Alex’s school all week, and she hadn’t realised how difficult it could be taking two small children out to eat, especially when there were dozens of other children present too. She dumped her bag on the sideboard, rummaging through it first to grab her phone before she climbed the stairs. She toed her boots off and fell onto the bed face first. Then she closed her eyes, a giddy smile on her face.

* * *

She was dreaming. Or remembering, maybe? Because her kitchen looked the same and the calendar was flipped to September and -

“Draco,” Hermione turned her head and raised an eyebrow at her incredibly smug looking boyfriend. “It’s not my birthday for another three days.”

He smirked as he came up behind her and rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hermione leant back into him and surveyed the room.

In the ten minutes she’d been gone upstairs putting Alexander and Olivia to bed, he’d laid out an extravagant meal complete with candles and rose petals and-

“I know love,” he was placing chaste kisses along the column of her throat. She felt goosebumps erupt along her skin and shivered in his embrace. “But I won’t be here and I wanted to make sure,” another kiss, beneath her ear this time, “that we celebrated it together before I left.”

Hermione nodded and turned in his arms. She pressed her lips against his, slipping her tongue along the seam of his lips and groaning when he tightened his grip on her and pulled her flush against him. She moaned when she felt his erection press against her stomach and pulled her lips from his. Draco simply returned to pressing kisses along her throat.

“How long till it’s ready?” She managed to rasp out. Draco stilled and Hermione swallowed thickly at the dark glint in his eye when he looked at her.

“Enough time for you to come love. Don’t worry.”

She squealed when he lifted her from the ground, tapping her thigh so that she knew to wrap her legs around his waist as he walked them in the direction of the living room across the way. He lay her down on the couch and leant over her, his hands beside her head as he looked her over. “You are so fucking beautiful.” 

Hermione blushed and wrapped her arms around his neck again, pulling him down so that his lips were barely brushing his. 

“Shut up.”

Draco simply smirked and kissed her again, his tongue stroking hers as one hand hovered along her side, barely touching her. Hermione arched beneath him when he cupped one breast and his thumb ghosted over her already hard nipple. He pulled the neckline of her dress down,  revealing her breasts and ducked his head down to pull an erect nipple between his teeth. She arched and moaned and writhed beneath him as he slid one hand under the hem of her dress and cupped her cunt. The friction of his hand pressing her underwear against her clit had her dripping for him in seconds, and when he slipped two fingers beneath the scrap of lace and into her cunt she began to beg.

“Please, please, please, please.”

“Not yet,” Draco mumbled against her chest, “I want you to come all over my hand first, love. Then you can have my cock.”

She nodded, breathless as he stroked his fingers within her, his thumb occasionally swiping her clit - teasing her.

“Please Draco!”

She felt him smirk against her skin and opened her eyes to see him looking up at her. She couldn’t stop herself from coming then as he watched her. A smirk twitched at her lips, even as she panted beneath him when she felt his groin press against the inside of her thigh. His cock was thick hard,heavy, and  _ begging _ to be freed from the restriction of his trousers.

He stood from the sofa and Hermione shimmied her knickers down her legs as Draco tore his t-shirt over his head and began to work open his belt buckle. Hermione bit her lip as her boyfriend’s nakedness was revealed to her and his cock jutted out - long and hard and-

She scrambled to her knees and had her mouth wrapped around the head of him in seconds, moaning as his pre-come coated her tongue. Draco hissed and wound his hand into her hair, helping her guide her mouth along his erection once, twice, before he growled and pulled her off his cock and pushed her back again so that she was splayed out on the couch beneath him. Hermione let one hand drift between her spread legs, her fingers sliding along her slit, gathering her wetness between her fingers as Draco worked one hand over his erection before he was on her again and filling her with his cock in one swift thrust. Hermione whined beneath him and Draco quickly covered her mouth with one hand.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmured, smirking all the while as he shifted his hips and pressed his pubic bone against her clit. Hermione whined. “We don’t want to wake the kids.” Hermione’s eyes widened but she nodded and pressed her lips against the palm of his hand, pulling two of his fingers into her mouth when he began to move his hand. He arched a brow as she began to suck on them and thrust them into her mouth in tandem with the way his cock was moving in and out of her cunt.

Hermione smirked and nipped at the pads of his fingers when  _ he _ began to lose rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, slipping them from her mouth and pulling her into his lap when he began to felt his balls tighten. He tugged a nipple between his fingers as Hermione rode his cock. “You’re a right little slut aren’t you love?”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded as her head fell back and Draco gripped her hips, stilling her before he began to thrust his hips up to meet her. His gaze dropped to the sight of his cock sliding into her.

“Are you going to come?” He asked as he pressed two fingers into her alongside his cock. Hermione could feel her cunt contracting. She knew Draco could feel it too and she whimpered, breathless, as he pressed his thumb against her clit-

_ Knock knock knock. _

_ “ _ Draco,” she whined.

_ Knock knock knock. _

“Come on love,” he murmured affectionately, pressing his lips to her collarbone and nipping the skin between his teeth. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”

_ Knock knock knock. _

“Draco,” she mewled, clenching her cunt as she shattered in his arms and dug her fingernails into his bare shoulders as she felt him thrust one more time then he stilled and -

_ Knock knock knock. _

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she glared at the ceiling, even as her front door continued to be pounded on. “I hate you,” she murmured as she dragged herself from her bed and the incredibly hot dream that she’d been having- the dream that had left the apex between her thighs damp. She didn’t even know who was at the front door, she only knew that she wanted to murder them with her bare bloody hands for interrupting her dream.  _ No, memory, _ she reprimanded herself, as she stumbled groggily down the stairs she stopped in the hallway and looked into the living room.

“Memory,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing a lazy hand over her tired face and moving down the hallway again towards the front door. “Definitely a memory.”

“I hope that’s not what you’re planning on wearing.” Pansy drawled, raising a sardonic eyebrow and sweeping past Hermione and into the house when she opened the door. Hermione rolled her eyes and followed her.

“What’s wrong with this?” She asked, tugging on the hem of the cream high necked sweater she’d found hanging in her wardrobe that morning. Hermione knew it was a bit too fancy to be paired with the pair of jeans she’d thrown on but it wasn’t exactly like she’d been anywhere important earlier. They’d only gone for lunch, after all.

Pansy snorted, even as she filled the kettle up. Hermione perched on the worktop beside the kettle as Pansy bustled around the kitchen pulling cups and milk and biscuits from the fridge and cupboards. “Nothing,” she deadpanned, pursing her lips and suppressing a snigger.

Hermione rolled her eyes, again, and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not wearing this anyway,” she huffed out.

“No?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her ‘friend’. “No.”

“And what will you be wearing?”

Hermione shrugged and carefully kept her gaze on the calendar stuck to the fridge beside her. “Just a dress.”

“ _ Just a dress?” _

Hermione shrugged again. “Yeah.”

Pansy hummed. “Any particular colour?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, smoothing her hands down her thighs. “A black one?”

“Just a little black dress then.”

“Yip.”

Silence. Not even the sound of Pansy making tea anymore. Hermione looked up and found her friend smirking at her. “What?”

“Did Tom tell you to wear it?”

Hermione slid down from the counter and grabbed her mug of tea. She could hear Pansy following her into the living room.

“Well?”

“So what if he did?”

Pansy chuckled and took a sip from her own mug before she set it down in front of her and once again smirked at Hermione. Hermione pursed her lips and huffed in frustration. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Pansy replied quickly, a little too quickly in Hermione’s opinion. “It’s just….”

“Oh my God, Pansy stop dancing around and tell me.”

“Well,” she began, taking a languorous sip of her tea, “if it's the dress I think it is, then I know for a fact that it’s the one you were wearing the night Olivia was conceived.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she was glad she’d set the cup of tea down just as Pansy had begun to speak. “That’s - that - It doesn’t mean anything,” she protested.

“Ah ha.”

“It doesn’t. I have no intention of sleeping with him tonight. Never mind conceiving another child with him.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “He is your husband.”

“I don’t even know him.”

Pansy sighed and moved from the couch across from Hermione until she was beside her. She placed her own tea down and took Hermione’s hands in her own. “It’s ok to want to, you know?”

Hermione snorted. “Is it? Because I feel like a harlot most of the time.”

“Well,” Pansy started, pulling her legs up beneath her and settling more comfortably at Hermione’s side. “You’re not. No matter what my beloved sister in law would lead you to believe.”

Hermione groaned. “She’s mad at me.”

“She has no reason to be.” At Hermione’s incredulous look Pansy went on. “She doesn’t. It’s not her business.”

“But wasn’t she there to pick up the pieces when me and Tom split up?”

“I mean sure,” Pansy agreed, leaning forward and taking a sip of her tea, “but after Daphne died we all were. And then when you and Tom separated…” She trailed off and Hermione lifted an eyebrow at her. She was chewing on her lip. “We were all already stepping up to help you both anyway. Nothing really changed when Tom moved out. He was still as present in the kids lives as much as he could be. Plus, just because Ginny helped you out in your time of need doesn’t mean she gets to dictate your life choices Hermione. You don’t see me telling you I’m not going to babysit Alexander and Olivia just because of how I feel, do you?”

“I feel a ‘but’,” Hermione interrupted.

“Well, when you started seeing Draco-”

“He didn’t take it well did he?” She asked. She didn’t need to see Pansy shake her head in agreement to know it was the truth. Tom had always been the jealous, possessive sort. It continued to amaze Hermione how well he was handling her wish to continue to see Draco alongside him. But then she remembered his little display that very morning and snorted.

She glanced at Pansy and sighed. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely. But,” she scooted closer to Hermione and put her arm around her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Ok?”

Hermione blinked at her friend. Once, then again before she simply nodded. Pansy sighed, somewhat dramatically in Hermione’s opinion but didn’t press the issue, choosing instead to ask Hermione how she was getting on with discovering all the changes in her life - particularly Alexander and Olivia. 

Hermione pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “It’s so strange. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the morning and I’ve forgotten, you know? My hand automatically finds itself attempting to cup a baby bump that isn’t there.”

“Oh Hermione.”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s fine. Nothing I can do about it now,” she smiled wanly at her friend and placed her long empty mug on the table in front of them. “I guess I should get ready huh?”

Pansy flicked her eyes in her phone’s direction, noted the time and nodded. “I think they’ll be back soon.”

Hermione released a shuddering breath and nodded, standing from the sofa.

“Call me when you’re out of the shower and I’ll come fix your hair,” Pansy called after her as she began her ascent up the stairs.

Hermione snorted. “Ok.”

* * *

 

Hermione stood, hidden in the shadows, at the top of the stairs and listened to Tom and Pansy’s conversation. Pansy had been helping Hermione pin half her hair up when the front door had opened and the ruckus of Tom, Alexander and Olivia entering the house could be heard from down the stairs.

“You finish getting dressed,” Pansy had murmured. “I’ll go get the kids settled,” she said, giving Hermione’s bare shoulder a squeeze before she flitted from the room. Hermione had sat at her dressing table, deliberating whether or not to wear the engagement and wedding rings she’d found tucked at the back of her jewellery box.

She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. But then, she didn’t want to go out with him and everyone they met not know that she was his wife, either.

She lifted the rings from the box and admired them. She’d missed the weight of them on her finger ever since she’d “woken up”. If she were honest with herself she was surprised she still kept them so close. Perhaps the old Hermione hadn’t given up either?

She closed the box before she could change her mind, slipped the dress on over her matching black lingerie - she owned  _ a lot _ of matching lingerie now - and stepped into her shoes. She still wouldn’t reach Tom’s height but at least she wouldn’t have to strain as much now to wrap her hands around his neck. If the opportunity arose of course.

She was about to make her way down the stairs when she heard both Tom and Pansy talking at the bottom of the stairs as they waited on her. She was reminded of the conversation between Tom and Ginny she’d overheard the day before and took a step back so that the darkness of the upstairs landing enveloped her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet, Weasley.”

“God, I hate when you call me that,” Pansy huffed.

“It is your name.” 

Hermione could almost see the smirk twitching at his lips.

“What time will you be back?” She asked.

“I’m not sure. Why? Are you and your sister-in-law imposing a curfew on my wife?”

Hermione heard Pansy snort. “You seem to be under the impression that Ginevra and I  ever agree on anything.”   
  
“I’ve known you both a long time. I know that Molly will make your life a living hell if you antagonise her ‘perfect’ little girl.”

“Oh please. Everyone knows I’m her favourite daughter-in-law.”

Tom sighed. It was quiet for a moment before Hermione heard him speak again. “I’m just trying to do right by her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Tom.” Hermione saw Pansy slip her hand onto Tom’s forearm. “You’ve loved her for nearly fifteen years. Even when you both hated each other in school we all knew there was something there. If you didn’t fight for her I’d be worried that something was wrong.”

“I should have fought harder for her before. It shouldn’t have taken her losing her memory for me to come to my senses.”

Pansy snorted. “Please. You’ve always been emotionally retarded. Don’t look at me like that Thomas Marvolo Riddle-”

“I hate you-”

“- I know that the Notts marriage disintegrating took its toll on you both bu-”

“Mummy?” Hermione jumped at the sight of Alexander standing on the stairs looking up at her. “Mummy why are you just standing there?”

Hermione cleared her throat and began to descend the stairs. “I’m not,” she answered, grasping his small hand in her own and walking down the stairs with him. “I just finished getting ready.” Pansy raised an eyebrow at that but Hermione kept her face straight and her eyes on Tom.

“Hi.”

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

Hermione smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and resisted looking in Pansy’s direction. She could see from the corner of her eye that her friend was smirking and resisted the urge to punch her in the arm. “Thanks. Should we go?”

“Yes. Alex-”

“I will be good dad. You don't have to warn me!” He huffed.

Hermione hid a chuckle behind a cough at his tone. “Still,” she muttered, crouching down to hug Alexander, “be good for Auntie Pansy.”

“Obviously,” he muttered. She stood to see Tom shaking his head and slipped her hand into his. 

“Let’s go.” He nodded and tugged her towards the front door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Pansy called behind them as the front door slammed.

Hermione scowled but when she looked at Tom he was smirking.

* * *

 

“Why are you so nervous?”

Hermione flicked her gaze from the menu open in front of her to Tom’s face before she focused again on the selection of pasta’s. She gave him a grim smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just-” she broke off, sighing heavily as she sat her menu down and sipped from her glass of water.

“Odd?” Tom finished.

Hermione’s lips quirked into a grin and she nodded. “Odd.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I’m a little out of practise.”

“You,” she started and swallowed nervously, her tongue darting out to lick rather dry lips, stealing herself for his response. “You haven’t been seeing anyone?”

The dark look he sent her was answer enough and Hermione nodded, averting her eyes and relaxing a little in her chair. So he hadn’t been seeing anyone. Or well, she thought darkly, he hadn’t been dating anyone. Not that she had  _ any _ room to talk on the matter.

“Have you decided what you want yet?” He asked. Hermione was glad one of them knew how to break the awkward moment, but she flashed him a irritated look anyway.

“You don’t know?”

“Oh. I do. I just want to make sure you know for sure before I order what you always had every time we came here.”

She shook her head and let him order her the carbonara when their waitress finally arrived and when he’d taken another sip of his whiskey she finally opened her mouth.

“How come you ended up taking over your father’s company? You hated the idea of that, Tom. How did it happen?”

“He died.” Tom sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “and it was one of his requests before he did so, that I take over the family business. And my mother,” Tom paused and took a long drink from his glass, setting the empty tumbler between them, “even after everything he’d done to her she still loved him, and she asked me to do it. Said it would be a shame if it fell into someone else's hands just because he’d been a shitty parent.”

Hermione extended her hand across the table between them and linked her fingers with his. “I’m sorry.” 

Tom shrugged and signalled for another drink. “It’s fine. It happened so long ago now.”

“What about me?” She asked after the waiter had refilled Tom’s glass and refilled the decanter of water Hermione was steadily making her way through. Tom smirked.

“Defense lawyer.”

Hermione choked, spraying water from her nose. “No way.” 

Tom hummed. “Yeah.” His lips curved up into a smirk and Hermione pressed her legs together. “You always did have a thing for helping the helpless.”

“Well my first case was so successful,” she drawled sarcastically, smirking at him. Tom rolled his eyes.

“Bitch,” he murmured fondly. Hermione hummed and grinned at him before she swallowed and spoke again.

“But nobody’s mentioned me going into work. Did something happen… I mean besides losing my memory?”

Tom grimaced. “Not really?” He sighed and took another sip of his drink. “When Alexander was born you stayed on maternity for a year and then went back part time. You didn’t want him to grow up without knowing either one of his parents. But when we fell pregnant with Olivia…..” he trailed off pointedly and Hermione knew what he was saying without him saying anything at all.

“She wasn’t planned?”

“We weren’t exactly in a great place at the time - no.” Her face must have been a picture because he quickly began to reassure her. “Just because she wasn’t planned doesn’t mean we weren’t happy about it. It just took a bit of adjusting is all.”

“I can see objectively how- with both of them- it would make sense for me to stay home, it’s not like we would have needed my income. And I’m not necessarily unhappy about it, I love them regardless of the fact that I can’t even remember them, but I’m also having a hard time understanding the woman who made these decisions. Was it easy for me to let go of my career?”

“No. Not at all. In fact for the first few months after Olivia was born you were working out of your office at home but then -” He broke off suddenly, wincing and Hermione got the distinct impression he didn’t really want to tell her what had happened.

“But what?”

“But then the Nott’s moved into our street and well….”

Hermione shivered. “I get this horrible feeling every time somebody mentions them. Ginny said that she- Daphne- died, is that why? And what could they possibly have to do with my job? Just how well did we know them?”

“I need another drink,” Tom muttered. But he didn’t signal for the waitress. Instead he simply reached across the table and took a sip of her water. “Daphne went on a run every morning and you ended up running into her when you took Alexander to school. You started going for coffee with her. Eventually we were going to dinner at their’s or they were coming to ours almost every evening. She was great with Olivia and-” he paused and looked away from her, “I was so busy with work. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Pansy - they were all busy with their own families.” He met her gaze again. “She was perhaps the only adult in your life that didn’t have any commitments other than spending her husband’s money. She came home with you almost every morning and eventually you just stopped trying to work from home too.”

She could only blink at him. “That doesn’t sound like me. Were you angry?” 

Tom snorted. “No. I mean, not exactly. Was I pleased that you had finally stopped trying to stretch yourself so thin? Yes. Was I pleased that you were spending so much time with a woman who had no children of her own and wanted to act like a teenager when you were in no position to do so? Not exactly.”

“I-” Hermione felt like she should defend herself but she couldn’t, she couldn’t even remember the events in question. “Is that when it started to fall apart?” She wondered quietly. 

“Maybe,” Tom shrugged. “It definitely didn’t help that their marriage was in a shambles. Everyday you listened to Daphne tell you about her woes and then I’d come home and well, I was married to you, Hermione. I wasn’t exactly interested in their marriage, you know? But it was like...like you listened to her problems and projected them onto us?”

“I was under the impression that we were both close to them? That we were friends as couples.”

“I mean, I got along with her husband. But Hermione, you know me. I barely tolerate Potter and Weasley and they’re your best friends. He was nice enough, but he wasn’t a businessman. The only thing we had in common was the fact we both drove Range Rovers.”

Hermione felt her temper bubbling beneath the surface, she tried to rein it in but she couldn’t stop herself from ripping her hand out of his. “And when did you decide you wanted a Range Rover, Tom? It doesn’t sound to me like I was the only one who changed.” She took a few deep breaths. “This is all making more sense to me even as it continues to feel pretty unbelievable.”

“We needed a bigger car having two children.” He defended. 

Hermione scoffed. “No one  _ needs _ a Range Rover, Tom.”

“I can’t believe the only thing you’re concerned about right now is the type of car I drive,” he hissed. “Why does it matter? I worked hard for it. You didn’t have an issue with it when we got it. You’ve never had an issue with how we’ve spent our money.”

“The Tom I knew never would have spent money like that, and the Hermione I remember being never would have approved. Don’t you see how this seems to me? Like I’ve stepped into another person’s life? I feel like you are the only one who can really explain it to me.” 

“What do you want me to say? People change Hermione. For fucks sake, it’s not like you, even now as you are, can tell me that eighteen year old Hermione would approve of how twenty-three year old Hermione is living her life? That she’d be pleased you’s settled down and got married so young?”

“I never regretted that,” she spat. “How dare you say that to me? How could you even suggest that Alexander…” she trailed off when she saw the look on his face as it suddenly all made too much sense. She still didn’t know exactly what had happened, but she knew without a doubt that they were fully capable of tearing each other to pieces.  

“She’d be disappointed in you.” Fuck, but she’d forgotten how cruel he could be. “She’d want to know why you hadn’t left and gone travelling like you’d always wanted to. Want to know why you were married to a cunt like me. Why you’d settled into a job that you knew would never make a real difference instead of trying to make a change in a more practical way. Let’s not even start on how she’d feel about how you gave up your job altogether. How you spent money so frivolously on clothes and holidays, and let’s not forget just  _ who  _ purchased that BMW that’s sitting in the drive at home, yeah?” He snarled, his chest heaving with the exertion of their argument.

Hermione could feel tears prickling at the corner of her eye. “Who are you? Who are we?” She gasped as they glared at one another. At the back of her mind she remembered how good she’d felt with Draco in her dream- her memory.

Hermione could feel herself rapidly spiraling out of control. How many times had he made her feel like this? This was supposed to be their second chance, but apart from the obvious attraction between them all they’d done was snipe at each other. He grasped at her hand until she finally stopped struggling. “I know you’re the one who lost her memory, love, but I’ve asked myself that same question more times than I can count and I’ve never liked the answer I’ve come up with.” 

“I just,” she took a deep, shuddering breath and didn’t bother to wipe the tears that flowed down her face. “Tom. I just wish I could remember. I wish I could remember and go back in time and fix this. Fix us. This isn’t me. This isn’t us. And I can’t bear the thought that you know everything and I know nothing!”

Tom’s eyes fell shut and Hermione thought the weight of- not just the past week- but perhaps the past year seemed to hit him all at once. “Part of me wishes I could give it all back to you, but part of me is so damned thankful that you’re finally here talking to me. I can’t even be sorry about how terrible that makes me. Do you- do you remember anything?”

She pushed away the memory of Draco fucking her on the couch in the home she’d purchased with Tom and closed her eyes. “No. I remember that I love you. No matter how much I don’t remember, I will never forget that. And I know that old me still loved you too. I can feel it in my bones, Tom. And I’m sorry that it took a careless employee spilling something in the supermarket and me falling on my ass and forgetting the past decade to tell you that. But-” she broke off, and swallowed, finally looking at him again, “I do.”

“But you have feelings for Malfoy too?”

Hermione couldn’t help the twitch of her lips or the way her stomach somersaulted at the mention of Draco. She was so fucked. She slipped her hand from his again and nodded, looking anywhere but at her husband. “Yes.”

He nodded and swallowed thickly. Hermione watched his adam’s apple bob. “I’d just like a chance.” He shifted uncomfortably. “But either way you’re the mother of my children. No matter what I’ll be here to help you through this.” 

“I just need time. Just, God this is so selfish - but that’s all I need. I think.,” she smiled ruefully at him, “I hope?”

He could only nod again. “Yeah, okay, yeah,” he huffed out a little laugh. “Maybe we could talk about something else?” 

She nodded. 

“Maybe you could tell me why you’re not drinking?” He looked pointedly at her glass of water.

Hermione chuckled, finally begging to relax again and shrugged. “Apparently I was an alcoholic?”

Tom pursed his lips. “You maybe drank a little more during the day than I thought was advisable, but no, I’m not going to accuse you of that,” he paused, “you’re an excellent mother,” he admitted quietly. 

“Obviously,” she drawled, smirking over the rim of her glass, “we both know when I decide to do something that I excel at it.”

“Spaghetti Carbonara?”

Hermione blinked up at the waitress who was holding two plates and was looking expectantly between her and Tom, before she realised  _ she _ was the one who wanted spaghetti carbonara. “Oh,” she muttered, “that’s mine.” Tom snorted and she rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up,” she muttered as she dug into her- still favourite, after all these years, meal.

* * *

 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Hermione gasped. “Please tell me that didn’t really happen?”

“I swear it did. Ask Ron the next time you see him.”

“And Pansy still married him? God she’s a saint. I can’t believe how well we get on considering i don’t rememb-”

“Tom. Hermione.” A voice interrupted and there was enough bite in it to startle Hermione into looking up and away from Tom to see a man that she knew she’d seen before but couldn’t for the life of her place.. 

“Theo,” Tom said, standing from his chair and clasping the other man’s shoulder. Hermione watched with furrowed brows. “How are you?” He asked.

The man, Theo, grinned at him, but Hermione, somehow, knew it was fake. A little too bright to be true. A little too shaky. “I’m good. Great. Couldn’t be better,” he replied but Hermione could see Tom’s fist curling into the palm of his hand and-

“Theo-“

“I see you two are back together. That didn’t take long. Nice to see that you’re working it out.” He turned to look directly at Hermione, “Funny,” he mused looking right at her, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m sure I saw her just a few weeks ago out with that blonde fellow, wrapped around him like a vine,” he laughed. 

Hermione stiffened in her seat and flicked her eyes in Tom’s direction to see him so obviously biting his tongue, his jaw tense and his arms hanging heavily at his side. She reached a hand for him but he ignored her.

“It was good to see you Nott,” he bit out, signaling for the cheque and retaking his seat. He didn’t look at Hermione or Theo, and Hermione watched Theo open and close his mouth a few times before he sighed dramatically and stalked off. Hermione tentatively gazed back towards Tom. He was rifling through his wallet and looking around for the waitress.

“Who was that?”

“Hermione,” he sighed defeatedly, “can we not?”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and fingered the rim of her water glass. She knew who it was now that Tom had said his surname. But these mood swings of his. She’d thought they were past that now that they were dating again, but he was as cantankerous as ever and it was annoying. Infuriating really. And they’d been having such a lovely time after their conversation and-

“Thank you.” Tom’s voice snapped her from her thoughts and she looked up to see their waitress hovering over them,  _ over Tom _ , while he scanned the bill. The fact that he was completely oblivious to the way their server was eyeing him up did nothing for Hermione’s own mood and she stood abruptly from the table. 

“I’ll meet you back at the car,” she mumbled, grabbing her bag and standing from the table. She didn’t look back at him as she stormed towards the ladies _ ,  _ the word  _ asshole _ running through her mind repeatedly.

She slammed her purse down beside the sink and glared at her reflection as she attempted to calm down. They’d made so much progress tonight. Sure she didn’t remember  _ anything _ important but at least she’d gotten some answers from Tom. It was a start at least.

She rifled through her bag in search of her mascara and pulled it and her phone free. She was fixing her mascara, removing the smudges her earlier tears had created when her phone vibrated.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

She closed her eyes in annoyance and shoved her belongings back into her bag. “I’m on my way out now.”

She didn’t wait for Tom to reply before she hung up and that was when she noticed the texts she’d missed throughout the evening.

She was still reading them when she got into the passenger seat of Tom’s car and he drove off.

**What are you up to?**

She flicked her eyes at Tom, but he was paying her no heed. His jaw was still tensed and she wasn’t in the mood to antagonise him further.

**On my way home. What about you? How was your day?**

He, Draco, replied instantly.

**It was fine. I missed my girlfriend though.**

**Poor baby.**

**I agree.**

**What are you going to do about it?**

**I’m going to take her out tomorrow for lunch.**

**That sounds nice.**

**I might call her later too.**

**Sounds even better.**

“Are you even listening to me?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Forget it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath. She slipped her phone back into her bag and stared out the window. When Tom finally pulled into the drive she asked him the question that had been bothering her for weeks.

“When did I get that car? Did something happen to it? Everytime I look at it I feel ill,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and turning her body to look at him. 

Tom sighed. “Hermione-”

“Let me guess.  _ Can we not _ ?” She mocked snidely, rolling her eyes and jumping out of the car before he could reply. She didn’t make it ten steps to the front door before Tom was out of the car and yanking on her arm.

“Would you stop?”

“No.”

He ran a hand through his hair and glared at her. “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met in my life. Has it occured to you that I might need some time too? You said that I’m the only one who can give you answers, but fucking christ on a bicycle Hermione. I’m fucking trying not to overwhelm you!”

She shook her head at him. “Whatever.”

“Oh my fucking God,” she heard him mutter before he was yanking on her arm again and pulling her into him. She didn’t even have a chance to berate him before he was slanting his lips over hers, nibbling on her bottom lip and sweeping his tongue across the seam of them. Her lips parted without thought and then he was pushing her up against the front door and sliding his hands along her sides until he was gripping her hips tightly and- “I told you to give me time ok?” he murmured against her lips, pulling back to look at her. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. I just need time too.”

“Ok.” She agreed, breathless. 

“Thank fuck.” He ducked his head back down and kissed her again. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “The last time you wore this dress-”

Pansy’s words floated through Hermione’s head.

_ “That's the dress I know for a fact, you were wearing the night Olivia was conceived.” _

Hermione pushed him back and groaned at the loss of his body. “Go.” She glared up at him. “That will not be happening tonight.”

Tom backed away, smirking. “Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” She rolled her eyes and turned to open the door. When she’d got it open and stood on the threshold, she turned her head to look back at him and smirked.

“Fuck off Riddle.”

She could still hear him laughing when she closed the door.   
  



	11. Mother Knows Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Riverwriter - who not only went through this monstrousity of a chapter but who helps keep me sane all days about everything - I love you. And to quitethesardonic - your enthusiasm for this story is <3 and i thank you for it - love you <3 To everyone else who reads this - thank you. It's my favourite thing to write at the moment and all I can say is sorry for what you are about to read.

“What on earth are you doing?” 

Hermione startled and dropped her bag at the sound of her best friend’s voice. She could still hear her phone ringing. Could feel it vibrating from inside the bag but she hadn’t seen Harry in almost three weeks. Not at all since she’d had her argument with Ginny and so she left her phone where it still was deep in the recesses of her bag.

“Harry,” she greeted, smiling brittlely up at him and turning in her seat to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

“James has swimming lessons too remember?” He said gently and Hermione nodded before she turned her head back to watch Alexander. He was a seriously strong swimmer. Much better than she ever was. “How are you?” Harry asked as he dropped into the empty seat beside her. Hermione resisted leaning into him and shrugged. She wasn’t exactly sure where they stood. Wasn’t sure what Ginny would have told him about their argument. 

“I’m fine. What about you? I haven’t seen you in a while?” And she hadn’t. She’d seen Ginny almost everyday when she’d gone to pick Alexander up from school but the redhead hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction once.

“I’ve been away with work,” he said, taking one of the hands that she’d been twisting in her skirt, into his. “Hermione -”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, cringing at the way numerous parents turned and looked at her. “Oh God,” she muttered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Harry chuckled beside her and pulled her into him.

“What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who should apologise.”

“Well,” Hermione began. Harry snorted.

“Well, Ginny,” he corrected, smirking at her, “but still. I haven’t exactly been supportive of you have I?”

Hermione turned away and watched Alexander as he swam lengths. “I just don’t understand why she’s, why you’re both,” she corrected, “so against me seeing Tom?” 

Harry tilted her head back to look at him with a simple finger under her chin. “I’m sorry. I don’t really have a reason that without your memories you’d accept. But it’s none of our business. You’re a grown woman Hermione. You can make your own decisions. I just want you to know that no matter what you decide we’ll support you.” Hermione nodded. There had never been a doubt in her mind that she would accept Harry’s apology. There also wasn’t a doubt in her mind that when the time came she’d accept Ginny’s too. 

“It’s ok.” She said.

“It’s not but I agree that there's no point dwelling on it.” Hermione nodded and Harry smiled at her for the first time in weeks. “How have you been?”

“Ok. Tired.” She smirked up at him. “I never knew how exhausting it was having two kids. I don’t know how you cope with three.” 

Harry laughed. “And Malfoy? Tom?”

Hermione could feel the blush blossoming in her cheeks. “They’re good,” she rasped. Harry nudged her. 

“I‘m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased.

“They’ve been taking me out on dates.”

“Separately I hope?”

Hermione elbowed him. “Obviously.” 

“And?”

“And it’s been nice.”

It had been nice. Both of them had been taking her out on two date nights a week for the past few weeks. Hermione couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been wined and dined so thoroughly. Nor a time when she’d spent so much time with Pansy, who was nothing but happy to look after Alexander and Olivia whilst she was out. 

It was even better when they all spent time together. Tom had a habit of arriving to pick Alexander up from school unannounced and then whisking them away for an afternoon drive and a nice dinner at a pub in the countryside. And Draco was no better. He’d showed up a few times too and the four of them had ended up in Brighton one night, enjoying the seaside and the fair and- 

It had been nice.

“Still no closer to picking just one of them then?”

Hermione groaned and dropped her head onto Harry’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure i’m in love with them both.” Harry chuckled above her and Hermione thumped him in the arm. “It’s not funny.”

“Of course not,” he replied cheekily.

“I’m meeting Draco’s mother in a few days,” she murmured quietly.

“Narcissa? You’ve met her before.”

Hermione groaned. “Yes but I don’t remember that do I? What if she hates me?” Harry laughed and Hermione made to thump him again but he caught her fist in his hand and smirked at her. 

“She loves you. All mothers love you. Remember when you met mine and she spent the next year trying to convince us to date just so she could call you her daughter-in-law?”

Hermione laughed. “She kept showing me your baby pictures and telling me how cute our babies would look.” Harry laughed but Hermione sobered. “Merope hates me.” 

“Merope’s a bitch though,” he smirked and Hermione chuckled. They settled into a companionable silence as they watched their sons’ swimming lesson. “It’ll be ok you know,” Harry murmured eventually. At Hermione’s incredulous look he went on as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and dropped a chaste kiss to the top of her head. “Your memories. Whether you get them back or not, everything will be ok.”

“I hope so,” she muttered lifting her head and watching Alexander again.

* * *

 

“But I don’t want to go!” Alexander yelled and Hermione closed her eyes and counted to three before she crossed the kitchen and lifted Olivia, who had not stopped screaming since Hermione had placed her into her highchair, into her arms. 

“Please stop crying baby,” she murmured, holding Olivia close to her chest and swaying. “Please stop.”

“I.” Stomp. “Am.” Stomp. “Not.” Stomp. “Going.” Stomp. “I.” Stomp. “Want.” Stomp. “to.” Stomp. “Stay.” Stomp. “Here.” Alexander screamed from the hallway and Hermione looked down at Olivia, whose face was scrunched up and red and covered in mashed banana and snot and tears, and felt like crying herself.

She walked into the hall watched, wide-eyed, as Alexander threw his tantrum. She was helpless to stop him as he tossed his school books from his bag, threw his wellies into the kitchen, and kicked the living room door repeatedly.

“Alex.” She said, hoping to calmly stop him from his destruction without startling Olivia even more. Her youngest was writhing about in her grasp now and Hermione was gripping her tightly to prevent her from joining her brother in destroying the hallway.

“Alex please,” she repeated quietly. She felt her phone vibrating from her pocket and slipped it out to find the unknown number that had been trying to get a hold of her for days calling  _ again. _ “Please Alex,” she said again, louder this time, “I’m on the phone.”

“I don’t care!” He yelled at her before he turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs. Hermione stared after him in shock as she bounced Olivia in one arm and answered the call with the other. “Hello?”

“Hello. Mrs Riddle?”

Olivia was still screaming. “Shhhh sweetie.” She murmured, pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could bounce Olivia with two hands. “Speaking.”

“Oh thank goodness. This is Dr. Slughorn’s office. We've been trying to reach you for quite a while now.” 

Hermione blinked and walked into the kitchen to boil the kettle. She glanced at the clock. Ten till four. “Oh,” she replied, “sorry, I’ve been quite busy.”

“Yes well,” the woman sniffed, and Hermione decided she was going to find out her name and have her fired or reprimanded or something. Was this the way secretaries spoke to clients these days? “We’re going to need you to come in as soon as possible. Your blood work has come back and Dr. Slughorn is quite insistent on seeing you again.” Hermione pressed her forehead against the fridge door, carefully maneuvering Olivia so she wasn’t agitated further by the cool metal. 

“Ok,” she muttered. “When?”

“An appointment has been made for you at four pm on Monday afternoon.” Hermione grit her teeth. She honestly felt like telling this woman to go to hell and to shove her appointment up her arse but she really did need to see Slughorn. She pulled the milk from the fridge and turned around to find Tom staring at her. At her frazzled and obviously frustrated face and at Olivia who was  _ still screaming bloody murder _ and then pointedly up at the ceiling where she could still hear, over all the ruckus in the room she was in, stomping around. She almost sobbed with relief when he crossed the room, lifted Olivia from her arms into his -where she immediately settled - pressed a kiss against her forehead then  turned on his heel and began to make his way up the stairs. She took a deep breath.

“Monday at four will be fine.”

“See you th-” Hermione cut the call and made herself a cup of tea before she collapsed into one of the dining room chairs.

Tom found her there twenty minutes later.

“Hey.” She lifted her head to see him standing on the threshold of the kitchen, Alexander was stood between his legs. “Go on,” he nudged their son gently and Alex walked the small distance between them until he stood before her, his eyes firmly on his feet. 

“Sorry Mum.” 

She pulled him into her arms. “It’s ok.” She looked at Tom over his shoulder.  _ Thank you, _ she mouthed. 

“Ok,” Tom interrupted. “Go and pack all your stuff up then come back downstairs and tidy the mess in the hall up.”

Alexander nodded and pulled back from her. “Ok Dad.”

“Hi,” Hermione mumbled when Tom dropped into the seat beside her.

“Hi yourself. What the hell was that?”

Hermione looked up from her tea to him and shrugged as she rubbed a hand over her face “I have no idea but I hope it never happens again. Where’s Olivia?”

“She’s asleep.” He reached across the gap between them and pulled Hermione into his lap. He was nuzzling his nose along the swell of her breasts when he spoke again. “Who was that on the phone?”

She ran her fingers through his hair and gripped the roots in her fist as she angled his head up to look at her. “The doctor’s. I have an appointment on Monday afternoon.”

He hummed. “For your head?” Hermione shrugged.

“He took some blood last time I visited too. I’m assuming he just wants to give me a once over.”

“I’d like to give you a once over,” he mumbled into her neck. Hermione laughed and he smirked up at her. “Want me to take you?”

She blinked down at him. “Won’t you have work?” 

He shrugged. “I’ll take the day off. We can take Alexander to school, then me, you, and Olivia can spend the day together.”

“Only if you’re sure?”

He grinned up at her and Hermione’s heart fluttered. “I’m sure. It’ll be a good chance for us to spend some quality time together. As a  _ family _ .” She rolled her eyes but nodded.

“Ok then. Thank you.”

He dropped his eyes again to the swell of her breasts. “Do you have to go tonight?”

She felt her face fall and made to move off his lap. He held her tighter. “Tom-”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That wasn’t fair.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. It wasn’t.”

“I just want you all to myself.” She simply shook her head and nudged him until she was free of his grip. “Fuck,” he grabbed her by the wrist and stood with her. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

She frowned up at him. It was hard for her too. Didn’t he think she’d like to have her memories back? Would like to know what the hell was going on in her head and her heart? To be with just one of them without thinking about the other?

“I know,” she muttered, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him. “I know,” she repeated and he sighed heavily as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. 

“I should go grab the kids and let you get ready.” She nodded but didn’t pull away and when he cupped her jaw and angled her head so that he could kiss her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leant into him. His tongue swiped the seam of her lips and she parted them, sighing into the kiss which was quickly becoming heated.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked, reluctantly pulling away from him. He flashed her a grin as he walked out of the kitchen and made his way upstairs.

“Yeah.” 

She watched him,  _ and his bum, _ and when he was out of sight she dropped her head into her hands, slumped back into her seat and groaned at the prospect of re-meeting Draco’s mother in a few hours.

* * *

 

“Are you ok?” Hermione’s eyes snapped up p from looking at her hands to meet Draco’s. He was frowning at her and one of his hands was reaching across the table for hers. She unwound her fingers and took his.

“I’m fine,” she replied, smiling shyly at him. “I’m just nervous.”

Draco squeezed her hand. “It’ll be fine. My mother loves you.” Hermione hoped that was true. She had a terrible track record of meeting mothers, regardless of what Harry said. There was just something about  _ her _ that rubbed them the wrong way. Merope had always made it quite clear that she’d never thought Hermione had been good enough for  _ her _ baby boy.

“I know. But it’s just odd. I’m not even good at organising my own life. Never mind an extravagant party.”

The Malfoy’s Annual New Years Eve Party. That’s what she’d apparently signed up to help Narcissa organise. Months ago. Before she’d lost her memory and been thrown into the carnage that her life currently was.

She was interrupted from thinking any further on the matter by the flurry of activity that signalled the arrival of Mrs. Malfoy and she suddenly felt incredibly underdressed in her navy blue short sleeved dress with low cut neckline. Narcissa Malfoy was the most put together and glamourous woman she’d ever met in her life.

“Darlings,” she cooed, grasping her son by the shoulders and, surprisingly, pulling him in for a firm hug before she turned to Hermione. She stood shakily from her chair.

“Hello Mrs, Malfo-”

“Oh gosh no darling,” she smiled, “Narcissa. You call me Narcissa”

Hermione nodded and smiled wanly. So far so good. And it was, good. Narcissa Malfoy was everything Hermione had always hoped Merope would be. Loving of her son and accepting of his relationship with her. The conversation flowed easily. Narcissa asked about her children, whom she’d apparently met on more than one occasion and  _ adored. _

“Olivia,” she sighed wistfully, as she cleared her plate of the lamb fillet they’d all enjoyed. “Is the absolute cutest.”  Hermione smiled. Her daughter really was. “Draco was too,” she continued. “The curls on him. You wouldn’t know it now of course but,” she glanced at Draco, “he was beautiful. I can only imagine,” Narcissa continued, but Draco interrupted sharply.

“Mother!”

“What?” She asked. “All I’m saying is that the pair of you would make absolutely adorable children.” She had her hand over her heart and was looking at Draco with wide eyes. As innocent as the devil. Hermione looked between the two of them, her heart firmly in her stomach. Draco’s eyes flashed. 

“Don’t.” He grit out. She simply smirked at him.

“Of course darling,” she muttered, bowing her head in apology but then she winked at Hermione from the corner of her eye. “So,” she turned to face Hermione. “Let’s talk about the party.”

Ah yes. The  _ Party. _

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much, if anything about it Mrs- Narcissa.”

She tsked away her concerns. “Not to worry. I’ll help with everything.”

“I’m just going to pop to the loo,” Draco said quietly after a few moments. Narcissa shooed him away with a perfectly manicured hand, but Hermione looked up at him in panic. He wasn’t seriously going to leave her with his mother was he?

He stepped around the table and leant against her back, pressing a chaste kiss against the top of her head. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured lowly enough for only Hermione to hear. Narcissa was watching them both adoringly and as soon as her son was out of sight she scooted her chair closer to Hermione’s and leant forward conspiratorially.

“I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” she said. 

Hermione blinked at her. “Well ammm the thing is,” she stammered.

“Oh darling. I know. I know.” She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile.”It’s just,” she trailed off and sat back in her chair, nursing her glass of red wine. Hermione felt sick looking at it. She swallowed drily and took a sip of her water.

“Just what?”

Narcissa glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “Well. Draco was so looking forward to this party.” Hermione stared at her, waiting. “He wanted to make an occasion of it.” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m not sure I under-” Narcissa glanced sharply at her left hand- her bare left hand- and it struck Hermione like a tonne of bricks. “Oh.”

Narcissa hummed. “Of course,” she sighed, “I’m not sure he’s going to go through with it now.” 

_ God I hope not _ Hermione thought. An image of Draco getting down on one knee flashed before her and, oh god, she was definitely going to be sick. She lurched back in her chair. “I just have to-” She trailed off and bolted for the toilets, leaving an incredulous Narcissa staring after her at the table and a bewildered Draco, who she bumped into as she rushed towards the restrooms, in her wake.

She heard him call after her as she stumbled into the ladies, but then she was kneeling over the toilet and all she could think about was not getting sick on her shoes.

* * *

 

“You’re very quiet.”

Hermione turned her head slightly to look at her boyfriend. He wasn’t looking at her. He had his eyes firmly on the road ahead of them. But Hermione could see that his knuckles were white with the exertion of gripping the steering wheel and -

She looked away. “It’s nothing.”

He sighed and Hermione mentally groaned. Why couldn’t she have one night out with either of the men in her life without it dissolving into a shambles.

“Dra-”

“It was my mother wasn’t it?” he didn’t wait for her reply. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with her,” he mumbled.

“Dra-”

“I wasn’t going to do it.”

She gulped. “Do what?”

“Propose. Well,” he cast a furtive look at her, “not until you got your memory back at least.”

This was insane. They’d been dating for months. Her divorce from Tom wasn’t anywhere near being finalised. For God’s sake, they’d postponed the bloody thing until this whole mess was sorted out. She could only stare at him but he went on.

“She found me searching for my Grandmother’s ring you see.” He flashed her one of his dazzling smiles and she felt those all too familiar butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “And she knew - she knows,” he corrected, “that I’ve been waiting a long time to give it to someone.” He pulled into her drive. Hermione hadn’t even realised they’d driven home so quickly, but her mind had been on the events of dinner, not her surroundings.

“I-”

He smiled ruefully across the dash at her. “You don’t have to say anything.” He leant across the console and cupped her jaw in his hand, his thumb caressing her cheek. “But now you know. And there’s no pressure Hermione. I’m not going to ask you until I know for sure that you’re mine again.” She nodded and he leant forward to press his lips against hers. She opened her mouth to him when she felt his tongue trace across the seam of her lips and her hands, which she had been wringing together since they’d got into the car, wrapped  around his neck. Eventually he pulled away and Hermione sighed into him. “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he murmured.

She nodded and, unbuckling her seat belt, slipped out of the car. “Tuesday,” she agreed, then she closed the door and watched him drive off into the night.

* * *

 

She was woken up by the sound of Alexander shouting for her. “MUM!” He yelled. Her eyes snapped open and she was stumbling out of bed and into his bedroom to calm him down when she realised his bed was empty and his room was tidy and then she remembered that he was with Tom and -

“Alex?” She replied, walking to the top of the stairs in only one of Tom’s old football shirts, which she’d taken to wearing almost every night. “What’s wrong? Where’s your dad?” She asked at the sight of her son looking up at her.

She almost collapsed with relief at the sight of her husband walking out of the kitchen, Olivia babbling happily in his arms. “Oh good,” he said, still looking at their daughter. “You’re awake.”

She scampered down the stairs towards the three of them and scooped Olivia out of Tom’s arms and into hers. “What are you all doing here?”

“We thought we might go for lunch.” She glanced at him, one eyebrow firmly lifted knowingly and hummed. “Well  _ I thought _ .”

“That sounds more likely,” she laughed, smirking at him but she handed Olivia back to him and leant up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek. “Give me twenty minutes.”

He grinned down at her and Hermione blushed as his gaze traveled the length of her. She was only wearing her knickers beneath his shirt. “I think you look lovely,” he said. She snorted and thumped him in the arm. 

“Fuck off,” she muttered, but as she climbed the stairs, she did it with a bit more sway to her hips than she normally would have, grinning when she heard his groan.

* * *

 

“So, where are we going?”

They were all packed into Tom’s Range Rover. Hermione was slowly beginning to love this car. It was perfect for them. They all had plenty of space to stretch out comfortably and -

“Nana’s,” Alexander said and Hermione blanched. She glanced at Tom but his eyes were firmly on the road ahead before she looked at her son in the rearview mirror. 

“What?”

“We’re going to see Nana,” he repeated.

“Tom?”

He sighed heavily. “I have some work things to sort out tomorrow and well, I always take the kids to see my mother on the weekend and-”

“But I haven’t seen her in -”

“Years.” He confirmed. “No.”

“You could have picked me up afterwards.”

“I know.”

“Tom,” She began hesitantly. She really,  _ really _ , did not want to go and see Merope. Narcissa had been so lovely last night and now she’d have to see the woman, who probably knew all about Hermione’s relationship with Draco and - God this wasn’t fair.

“It’ll be fine,” Tom said. She pursed her lips and stared out of the window ahead of her.

It would not be fine. Merope hated her.

_ Fucking arsehole _ , she thought as they drove on.

* * *

 

To Merope’s credit, it took her a full seventeen minutes to even notice her daughter-in-law. Hermione stood at the door of her room and watched as Alexander clambered over his grandmother - despite Tom’s protests to go easy - laughing and joking with her. And Merope smiled at him, indulging him thoroughly. It was only when she asked after Olivia and spotted her granddaughter sleeping in Hermione’s arms that her mood turned sour.

“You!” She spat. Hermione stiffened where she stood and glared at Tom before she stepped forward, careful not to jostle Olivia too much.

“Merope,” she greeted. “Good to see you.”

The older woman cackled and Tom gripped his mother’s hand in warning, but she was undeterred. “Oh no you don’t,” she mumbled, ripping her hand from Tom’s and turning in her bed to glare at Hermione. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited.”

Merope snorted. “Not by me.”

Hermione glared at her. “I-”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough to my poor son?” Hermione gaped at her. “Hurt him enough?”

“I never.”

“Oh, don’t lie to me child,” she replied, staring Hermione down. “I know exactly what a harlot you are.”

“Mother!” Tom protested, jerking back from her and standing. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Merope turned her icy glare on him. “Why not? That’s what she is, is she not? A Harlot.”

“She’s my wife.” Tom grit out, gathering Alexander up into his arms and making his way around the bed towards where Hermione stood with a now awake Olivia.

“Not for much longer she's not. Thank God you’ve seen sense and are divorcing the little bitch.”

Hermione stared at her open mouthed, stunned by her vitriol. What had she ever done to deserve this woman’s hatred?

“Actually,” Tom said, his voice deathly still as he turned his head back over his shoulder to glare at his mother. “We’ve put the divorce on hold.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond and simply swept his family from the room. They didn’t speak as they made their way back to the car, even Alexander, who was normally beyond chatty, was quiet. 

“Where should we go for lunch?” Tom asked when they were all safely strapped back into the car and driving away from Merope’s care home. 

Hermione said nothing. The thought of food was sickening. All she wanted to do was go home and lie down. They’d only been out for an hour or so and already she felt like she’d been put through the ringer.

“Just take us home,” she eventually mumbled, not looking at him. She felt his eyes on her as she continued to stare out of the window.

“Hermione-”

“Don’t Tom. Just,” she sighed wearily and looked at him. “Just take us home.”

“The kids need something to eat.”

“It’s a good thing there's a fridge full of food at home then,” she muttered.

He huffed but didn’t protest further for which Hermione was thankful. She felt sick enough - an argument with her husband was the last thing she needed. When they pulled into the driveway, Hermione wasted no time in jumping out and gathering Olivia out of the car and making her way into the house.

“I'll see you on Monday then,” she said when she’d put Olivia down in the living room and come back into the hall to find Alexander and Tom talking quietly. Tom opened his mouth but Hermione didn’t let him get a word in. “Since you have work tomorrow you won’t have time to come around,” she added pointedly.

“Hermione.” He said. Hermione could hear the exasperation in his voice but she was in no mood for it. Her head was pounding and all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and lie down. She flashed her eyes at him and he closed his mouth, his lips pursed in a thin line. “Fine.” He stepped forward, presumably for a kiss goodbye, but Hermione turned her cheek and his lips landed there instead. “Monday then,” he muttered, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him. 

Alexander scampered off but Hermione stood there, arms folded across her chest as she listened to him drive off.

* * *

Sunday passed in a blur and before Hermione knew it Alexander was shouting for his school shoes and Tom was walking through the front door, dressed smartly in a crisp suit. Hermione faltered as he stepped into the kitchen. The spoonful of ready brek she was feeding Olivia hanging from her hand.

“Dada!” Olivia squealed, startling Hermione.

“Hello baby,” he smiled, making his way into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Hermione could feel his eyes on her her, particularly her bare legs. She really needed to stop wearing her husbands football shirts and only his football shirts to bed, especially if he continued to show up first thing in the morning before she had a chance to make herself presentable. 

She cleared her throat and went back to feeding Olivia. “Morning.”

She felt him come up behind her and sighed, relieved, when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her shoulder. He nipped tiny kisses along her neck and she shuddered. “Morning gorgeous,” he murmured into her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually said, when they’d both taken a seat and Alexander had joined them - fully dressed thank god- at the breakfast table. Tom glanced away from making faces at Olivia towards his wife.

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not. I was out of line and-”

He snorted. “No. My mother was out of line. You were completely right and,” he turned in his chair and looked at her properly. “I should have listened to you.”

She smirked. “It’s nice to know that some things haven’t changed after all this time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go and get ready,” he said standing from the table. “I’ll take Alex to school to come back and pick my two girls up.”

* * *

 

“Jesus Hermione,” Tom muttered when the shop assistant came back out of the storeroom with a Trolley filled to the brim of toys. Hermione snapped her eyes to him.

“What?” She protested. “It wasn’t me.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

He did know what she meant, but if Hermione was honest, she too was shocked by how much she’d apparently spent on Christmas presents for their two children. She’d received an email telling her that her order was due to be collected and Tom had brought her to do so. Hermione couldn’t believe how much there was. Surely she hadn’t changed so much that she need to buy the affection of her children.

They exited the shop, trolley of toys and Olivia in tow, before they made their way towards the food court. 

“You’re not hungry?” Tom asked as he dove into his own dinner - medium rare rib eye and chips - and Hermione fed Olivia. She shook her head and met his eye.

“No.”

He frowned. “Don’t you need to have bloods taken this afternoon?” He asked.

“No. They took some the last time I was there with Harry. I should just be getting my results today.”

Tom nodded. “And your head? You haven’t gotten any of your mem-” 

She cut him off with a sharp look. “No.”

He reached for her hand and linked their fingers. “It’ll be ok.” She jerked her head. “I promise.” She didn’t take her eyes off of Olivia’s happy face as she scooped her noodles up with her hand. “I love you.” He said finally. 

She looked up at him then. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand when one fell. She smiled wanly at him and gripped his hand tighter.

“I know.”

* * *

 

“Shhhh sweetie,” Hermione murmured into Olivia’s head, even as her daughter continued to scream. She could feel the eyes of the other patients waiting in the doctor’s surgery glaring a her, but what did the want her to do? Smother her to death?

“Here,” Tom said, stepping forward and reaching for Olivia. “Let me take her.” Hermione passed her to him and though she did not quieten down completely, she did settle a little. Hermione continued to rub her head in as soothing a manner as she could. 

“I think she might have a fever.” She said but Tom shook his head.

“I think she’s just tired.”

Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him. She had no idea. She had no idea at all what a fever looked like in one of her children - in any child at all. She couldn’t remember this. Couldn’t remember looking after either of them when they’d eve been sick before but Tom - Tom did remember. She wrung her hands together and looked up at him.

“You’re sure.”

“Hermione,” he smiled at her, taking her hand and pulling her towards their chairs. “It’s ok.”

She was crying again but she allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. “Is it?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“Of course,” he murmured quietly. “You know there’s something wrong with her because you’re her mother. You just don’t remember how to spot exactly what it is.”

“I hate this. I hate not knowing. I’m so angry that I lost my memories.”

It took her a few moments to realise what she’d said and when she did -

Tom was looking down at her, his eyes wide and her heart lurched. “Oh God, Tom,” she rushed, clutching at his shirt, “that’s not at all what I meant it’s just-”

“Frustrating.” He finished for her. She nodded. “It’s ok. I understand.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn't mean it. I’ll always be thankful that we got to have this second chance.”

He nodded and pressed his lips to hers for the first time in days. “I know love,” he murmured. “I know.”

“Mrs. Riddle?”

Hermione looked up at Tom. “Go,” he encouraged. “I’ll stay out here with Olivia and make her a doctor’s appointment of her own just to give you peace of mind that there really is nothing wrong with her.”

She stood from her chair and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Go,” he repeated.

She pressed a quick kiss to Olivia’s cheek and smiled at him before she turned and followed the receptionist who led her to Dr. Slughorn’s office. God she was sick of seeing this room. He had various specimens of organs - hopefully human - in jars lining the walls and Hermione felt chilly as soon as she stepped into the room.

“Mrs. Riddle,” he greeted, standing and shaking her hand as she settled into one of the chairs. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you to come back in for a few weeks now.”

Hermione nodded. She had missed quite a number of calls. “I know and I’m sorry. Being thrown headfirst into a whole new life hasn’t been easy.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, clearly alarmed that he’d implied otherwise, “I completely understand. How have you been getting on?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I haven’t remembered anything though, well,” she added, “nothing substantial.”

“But you have remembered some things?”

Hermione frowned. “Yes and no. It’s hard for me to determine if these are actual memories or if they’re dreams?”

He hummed and began scratching notes down on an empty notepad. “That must be confusing.”

Hermione snorted. “Just a bit.”

“And what else. How else have you been feeling?”

Hermione sat back in her chair and stared thoughtfully at the elder man. “Nauseous.” He nodded. “Exhausted.” He scratched down another note. “I can’t stomach the thought of coffee anymore.”

“And your period?” Her head snapped up. “You don’t recall the date of your last period?”

_ Oh no. No. No. No. No. No.  _

She shook her head. The corner of his lips lifted in sympathy. “And you haven’t had a period in the weeks since your accident?” Her head shook again and her lips trembled.

“Please no,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry my dear.”

She lurched back from her chair and wrapping her arms around herself stepped back from him.

“No.” She said defiantly.

“Yes.”

“It’s not possible. I was on the pill. I found my prescription. I -”

“My dear. I’m sure you know that the pill is not 100% effective.”

“No.”

He just continued to nod and slid a piece of paper towards her. Hermione stepped forward and lifted it. There printed in black and white she saw for herself.

Seven and a half weeks pregnant.


End file.
